


Goner

by CamelotQueen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Murder, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Serial Killers, Stabbing, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamelotQueen/pseuds/CamelotQueen
Summary: There's a serial killer in Queens.Everyone tells Peter to stay out of it, to leave it to the police, but they should know better by now that he doesn't know how to leave well enough alone. Perhaps he should have listened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been ruminating in my head for months and I'm finally posting it. I blame my excessive listening of the podcast My Favorite Murder for this, as well as shesellsseagulls on Tumblr for enabling me. 
> 
> But seriously, heed the tags. This is a fic about a serial killer, and it's going to get graphic.

There’s a serial killer in Queens.

 

Peter is sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal with May when he first hears about it on the news. He turns around to look at the mini TV May keeps propped on the counter to hear the details.

 

A third body has been found on the side of the highway that’s been connected to two previous murders occurring some months ago, officially marking the pattern of a serial killer. Although it was first confused by a trucker taking a break for a mannequin, the body was later discovered to be that of seventeen year old Elijah Bradley. Like the other bodies, he was found nude and posed gruesomely, but unlike them, all the blood had been drained from his body.

 

Every victim so far has been a teen, two boys and one girl, all left posed the same way, but the cause of death has been unique to each one. It was unusual, which delayed the verdict, but police were sure now. The media aptly labels it the Queens Killer and pleads the public to come forth with any details or suspects.

 

Peter doesn’t even need to look away from the screen to know that May is staring at him fearfully. He looks back at her and smiles.

 

“I’ll be safe,” he says, because he knows what she’s thinking.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” she responds, pointing at him sternly, and continues her breakfast.

 

It doesn’t even take an hour after the official report to break before Tony calls him to tell him the same thing. The man barely ever calls so Peter knows he means business, but he rolls his eyes anyways. He promises he won’t actively go looking for the killer, but if he sees something happening he isn’t going to ignore it. Tony expects as much and doesn’t say anything more except to _be careful._

 

And Peter keeps his promise. He goes about his daily Spider-Man activities as usual, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, be it a car break-in or something more sinister. The point of Spider-Man is to look out for the little guy, and that’s his motto. Every crime stopped is equally important, and he’s not going to prioritize something that the police already have covered over smaller scale crimes that usually get left to the sidelines. Peter knows what he does matters, so he keeps doing his thing and pays close attention to anything particularly murder-y, but he doesn’t actively seek the Queens Killer.

 

That is, until the next victim is from Midtown Tech.

 

Peter knew her. Cindy Moon, a grade below him, and on the Decathlon Team. She was whip smart and almost unbearably shy, but always quick to smile. Her death leaves Peter reeling.

 

After the news of her murder goes public, it seems like a shroud settles over the school. The news becomes all the more real for every student, and the fear starts to sink in. Anyone could be next, and a student from Midtown Tech was _dead._ Everyone is glued to the news, asking friends and faculty alike for more details, for new releases on the case, anything to feel more connected to what’s going on.

 

For Peter, it feels like a failure. He feels so stupid for thinking this didn’t have to concern him, that his hands were clean as long as he promised to do something if he happened upon the scene. This was happening in _Queens,_ it was _his_ turf, and now it was even more personal. It happened in his own _school._ He had to do something.

 

He clenches his fists and Ned looks at him nervously, like he knows what he’s thinking. Everyone is so infuriatingly concerned for Peter.

 

“Dude, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?” Ned asks quietly as they’re walking out of the assembly to commemorate Cindy.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter replies flippantly.

 

“You know…” Ned looks around. “Getting your _friend_ involved in this?”

 

Peter glares at him. “Be quiet, people will hear you.”

 

“Oh come on, I’m being super subtle!” Ned whines. “Just answer the question.”

 

“I don’t know,” Peter lies.

 

The next time Peter goes out as Spider-Man, he visits the crime scene of the latest murder. It is taped off and the body is removed, but Peter can see everything pretty clearly from his vantage point above the treeline, which also doubles as cover.

 

From the police reports that Peter read, the body was dumped in this public park and found at six in the morning by a jogger. The body, like all the others, was purposely left to be discovered—posed on the bike path. There were no reports of any leads or DNA matches, but the victim had been missing for three days before she was discovered, and dead for a few hours by the time she was found.

 

Peter feels a chill run up his spine at the obvious bloodstains still on the ground. Police tags mark the area and some officers mill about, but otherwise there’s nothing to go off of. Still, Peter is left feeling vaguely hollow. He’s witnessed a lot of crime in the past year, but something about the deliberate and systematic snuffing of kids his age is so much more terrifying than crimes borne of anger or desperation.

 

“Karen, are you able to run scans of the crime scene?” Peter whispers from his perch.

 

“Sure thing, Peter,” Karen responds brightly, and a blue grid highlights the ground below him.

 

“That blood, is it all from the victim?”

 

“We do not know the blood type of the victim, but there is only blood from one person so we can assume it’s all from her.”

 

“Okay… are there any other leads?”

 

“There are many footprints on the path, although which belong to the murderer would be hard to say.”

 

“Any surveillance?”

 

“There is no surveillance set up in this area prior to the discovery of the body.”

 

Peter sighs. “Anything? Any clues?”

 

“Any evidence that might have been here has been confiscated by the police by now,” Karen responds factually.

 

That makes Peter’s job harder.

 

They visit the other three crime scenes with the same results. They have been cleaned up and there was no surveillance on the day the bodies were found, all cameras were set up after the murders, but so far the bodies have not been left in the same place twice. It’s like the murderer knows where the cameras are.

 

“Who would be a person that would know something like that?” Peter asks.

 

“Perhaps a security guard?” Karen suggests.

 

“Maybe…” Peter steps down from his perch at their fourth stop and webs away.

 

A bike path, an alley, an abandoned construction site, the side of a highway… four completely different locations and causes of death but the same MO. The only similarity was that they were all in Queens and they all lacked surveillance. So either the killer was really smart or really lucky. And Peter guessed it was the first option.

 

But what was his motive? Was it just random? The murders were too well-planned for them to be completely senseless, and they were obviously done by someone who knew what they were doing. They were meticulous… each body was mutilated but all in different ways. Was there a reason for that? There is a missing piece, but Peter doesn’t know what it is yet.

 

He sets his phone to give him alerts on any breakthrough on the case. The police are frustratingly tight-lipped on the issue, but Peter takes what he can get and tries to read between the lines.

 

It’s like all of Queens is holding its breath for the next missing teen report. Everyone knows it’s going to happen again but no one knows when the killer will strike next, and it puts the whole borough on edge. A lot of families have left for “vacations” but those who can’t afford to leave, like Peter and May, have stayed in baited apprehension.

 

“Peter, are you still with me?” May asks over dinner while he’s in his head thinking about the case.

 

“Huh? Oh yeah…” Peter looks back up at her apologetically. “Sorry, zoned out.”

 

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’ve been really quiet lately.”

 

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Just a lot going on right now, I guess.”

 

“Anything you want to talk to me about?”

 

Peter shakes his head, poking at his stir fry.

 

May purses her lips. “I know that kid from your class is bothering you… the one that was killed.”

 

Peter opens his mouth to deny it but she holds up her hand.

 

“It’s okay, I’m scared too. Terrified. I don’t feel comfortable knowing there’s a psycho out there targeting kids like you, and you’re out walking to school alone everyday. I know you’re Spider-Man, but… it’s scary to think about it.”

 

“It’s okay, May,” Peter says defensively. “I’m totally safe.”

 

“I know,” May sighs. “I don’t mean to imply that you can’t handle yourself, but… I would feel a lot better if you didn’t walk to school alone. Maybe meet up with Ned and walk together? I could drive you to his house in the morning.”

 

Peter scrunches his nose. “May, you don’t have to do that.”

 

“Please? I want to. Peter, a girl from your school was _murdered,_ and the killer is still out there. Every parent in the area is worried out of their minds.”

 

And Peter feels the guilt bubble up in his stomach. He’s supposed to make sure Queens is safe, and it’s never felt more _unsafe._

 

May sees his expression and understands. “Hey, no… do not even _think_ about pinning this on yourself. Are you listening?”

 

Peter looks back up at her and nods solemnly.

 

“You do such a good job protecting this city, okay? This is beyond you… this is the police’s job and they can’t even catch him. So don’t go trying to do this yourself okay? I need you to stay far away from this. Please.”

 

Peter nods again but he can’t look her in the eyes while he lies. The room feels tense with words left unsaid. He has a feeling May knows that he’s been looking into the case anyways but if she does, she doesn’t say anything.

 

They eat dinner again in silence and he prays she won’t bring it up again. He doesn’t need a lecture, he just needs to solve this case.

 

But information is far from forthcoming, and Peter finds himself swinging aimlessly around Queens, hoping to spot something. The killer has left all the bodies in public places, in plain sight, and no one has spotted them yet. It’s infuriating.

 

Then, of course, the next teen goes missing.

 

Thomas Shepherd, 17 years old. No one wanted to say it, but everyone knew: he was the next victim of the Queens Killer.

 

May drives him to school the day the news breaks. His parents and twin brother are on TV pleading with the public to keep an eye out from him.

 

 _“He has a loving home and great friends,”_ his father says with tears in his eyes. _“He would never run away. We implore the NYPD to bring our son back safe.”_

 

He wonders if they also hope Spider-Man will swoop in and save the day.

 

“Hey Peter,” May says gently, breaking him out of his self-deprecating thoughts. “Do you wanna text me when Decathlon practice ends? I’ll come pick you up.”

 

Peter furrows his brows. “You sure May? Aren’t you working late tonight?”

 

“I can use my break to come get you,” May explains.

 

Peter feels his stomach drop. “May, no! Don’t use that time for me…”

 

“Oh please,” May waves her hand. “It’ll be good to get away from the office for a bit. And I don’t mind! What’s more important is I know you’re safe.”

 

And there she is being overprotective again. Between her and Tony, it’s like neither of them are aware that he’s Spider-Man.

 

The school parking lot is more crowded than usual, with parents dropping their kids off becoming alarmingly popular. May gives him a kiss and sends him on his way, waiting to see that he made it inside even with cars honking angrily at her.

 

Peter hasn’t the first clue about private investigation, especially when he’s only working with public knowledge, but he feels somehow that if he just stays on patrol late enough, if he’s just diligent enough, he’ll somehow be able to save Thomas Shepherd. He runs himself ragged through the city until the exhaustion is so great that he almost slips off his webs and May is calling him to yell at him for worrying her so much. Every night he guiltily slinks back into the apartment and apologizes for keeping her up so late until she’s had enough and she confiscates the suit.

 

Thomas is found a week later in a public park, nude, posed under a tree, mutilated horribly. He was found by someone walking their dog.

 

Tony calls Peter again.

 

“Hey, just catching up and making sure everything is kosher. Hey, I hear another body was found in the park near where you live… I was thinking, maybe you should stop by the compound so I can hook you up with some—"

 

“Mr. Stark, are you worried about me?”

 

Tony makes a choking sound on the other end.

 

“I mean, I’m just being reasonable. There’s a serial killer in your area, you fight crime, I know you promised me you wouldn’t go after this guy and I _know_ you wouldn’t lie to me because you’ve _never_ done that before,” Peter can hear the sarcasm. “But you seem like kind of a danger magnet so I just want to take some precautions.”

 

“Mr. Stark, I’m _fine,”_ Peter rolls his eyes. “I can handle this. I’m Spider-Man.”

 

“I know this,” Tony says, affronted. “But when you’re out of the suit, you’re Peter Parker: scrawny, nerdy teenager who is the perfect victim for people who enjoy killing teenagers for fun. Why don’t you stop by the compound next weekend and we can hook you up with a nice little panic button?”

 

“A panic button?”

 

“Yeah, or like… something that you can have on you at all times that you can hit and it’ll trigger a call to me to know that you’re unsafe.”

 

“What is this, like Life Alert?” Peter scrunches his nose.

 

“Please, kid. For my own peace of mind.”

 

Peter sighs. “Fine… I guess. But don’t name it something stupid!”

 

“I would never.”

 

Peter is at the compound that weekend, sitting on the counter and kicking his legs while Tony tinkers with a small device.

 

“What if I, like, accidentally push it or something?”

 

“That would be really hard to do,” Tony promises. “It’s fingerprint activated, so it won’t work if you accidentally press it against a surface. And you have to hold it down for two seconds.”

 

He throws it at Peter and he catches it. It looks like a small bracelet. “Why don’t you test it out?”

 

Peter looks at him skeptically before looking back down at it. There’s a small ball attached to it, which he assumes is the button. He presses down on it and holds. Almost immediately, Tony’s watch starts beeping. He holds it up to Peter for proof. “See? Anytime you need me, kid. I’m like your 24/7 guard dog.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Peter slides it on his wrist, pretty sure he’ll never use it. The man may be overdoing it but it’s because he cares.

 

“And trust me, kid,” he continues. “The police are on this. I got some of my guys on this as well. It’s only a matter of time before this guy is found, so just sit tight and stick to street crimes. Okay?”

 

Peter thinks of Cindy and the time they did lab together. He thinks of the other victims.

 

He nods. “Of course.”

 

—

 

Peter spends the next day at the police station, asking questions. He figures Spider-Man isn’t gonna be any help, considering the police aren’t fans of him, so he goes as Peter Parker. They think he’s just a nervous kid asking for tips to stay safe, so they aren’t very helpful, until he mentions that he knew Cindy Moon.

 

He may stretch the truth a little on how close they actually were, but it works and the police are willing to talk to him about her murder.

 

“It’s just crazy, I saw her at school every day, we had Decathlon practice together. Then one day we say goodbye after practice is over, and the next she’s gone. I’ve tried talking to her parents about it, but they’re just too choked up, you know?”

 

The officer nods sympathetically. “Yeah, we think she was snatched on her way home from school… her parents called when it was getting late and she still wasn’t home yet.”

 

“Do you think… was she killed on that bike path?”

 

The officer shakes his head. “No, we think she was moved there from a previous location. She had been missing for days before she showed up there.”

 

“Do you have any idea where they’re being taken?”

 

The police officer scoffs. “If we knew that, we would’ve caught the guy already. We aren’t able to figure out where the murderer’s headquarters are, but they usually always take them to the same spot. Most likely his own house.”

 

Peter feels chills run down his spine.

 

“And there’s no security footage of him with Cindy anywhere?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. After Cindy left the school grounds she entered a blind spot and disappeared after that. We’re trying to track cars that were seen on surveillance nearby all the scenes of the crimes, but so far it’s inconclusive. But don’t you worry, security has tightened in that area since then, so you should feel safe.”

 

It isn’t himself that Peter is worried about.

 

“Was Cindy… what happened after she disappeared? Before she showed up at the park?” Peter asks, trying to sound choked up and not having to put too much effort into it… it’s a scary thought. He may not have been close to her, but she was still his teammate.

 

The officer looks grim. “I don’t think you want to hear the gory details.”

 

Peter’s face goes pale. “I know… I know she was stabbed,” he whispers.

 

“Yeah, that was the cause of death,” the officer responds cryptically. “Listen, kid. I don’t want to freak you out. We’re doing everything we can to nail this guy. You don’t have to worry, we’ll get justice for your friend.”

 

Peter wants to know more, but he’s nervous, and he doesn’t think the officer is willing to answer any more questions, so he just nods. The officer gives him a gruff smile and Peter wishes him luck on the case, then he leaves.

 

He visits the obituaries of all the victims and reads them over. He looks at their pictures. They’re all smiling. They’re so young and carefree, and all met with violent ends. The comment sections are filled with mourning family and friends, traumatized from the sudden loss. He reads all of those too and let’s the guilt sink it’s claws into him. They were all Queens residents, they should have been under his protection. He failed them.

 

Six months. It’s been six months since the first body was found, and Peter’s had enough. He dons the mask (the old one since his suit is still confiscated) and jumps from the roof of his building, desperate to find someone, _anyone_ that he can take out his frustration on. He finds them in muggers and car jackers, purse snatchers and pickpockets, but he doesn’t find what he needs to find the most. He needs to find the _killer._

 

The suit isn’t working. The suit isn’t doing anything. He’s scaled the length of Queens ten times over just keeping an eye out for the killer, and still nothing. He could be anyone. Peter doesn’t know what to look out for. Unless he catches him in the middle of the act, he’s not going to find him this way.

 

So he switches tactics.

 

He hangs up the blue and red and starts pounding pavement as Peter Parker. He prints out a map of Queens and marks all the locations where the bodies were discovered so far, tries to find a correlation. He reads anything he can online, visits public records, and scours reddit pages and news articles. The police are withholding the names of any suspects until they’re sure of who it is, so he has nothing to go off of on that front.

 

Everything seems to lead to a dead end. Without police files, he can only uncover so much unless…

 

He needs a guy in the chair.

 

—

 

“So what do you need me to do exactly?” Ned asks skeptically as he sits at his desk, laptop open in front of him.

 

“Just… hack into police files?” Peter grimaces.

 

“Dude, do you have any idea how bad that sounds?” Ned says. “If we get caught, you realize I’m gonna be arrested for like… forever, right?”

 

“I know, I know,” Peter throws his face in his hands. “Listen, this is dangerous. If you don’t wanna do it, that’s okay. But trust me… this is for important Spider-Man business!”

 

Ned squints his eyes. “Why don’t you ask Mr. Stark for help then?”

 

Peter makes a pained face and folds his hands innocently. “Because… he doesn’t necessarily know I’m doing this?”

 

“Oh, come on!” Ned rolls his eyes.

 

“Please!” Peter begs. “Guy in the chair!”

 

“I’m only your guy in the chair when you’re doing stuff that’s gonna get you in trouble!” Ned complains.

 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I promise, if you do this one thing for me I’ll talk to Mr. Stark about you becoming my _official_ guy in the chair. Maybe he’ll get you some cool tech too?”

 

Ned looks at him suspiciously for a few seconds. “... you promise?”

 

“I _promise.”_

 

They shake on it. Ned looks displeased but he nods. “Okay… can you at least tell me what this is for? I need to know what to access.”

 

“Uh… any files on the Queens killer?”

 

Ned rolls his chair around to face Peter fully, his mouth gaping.

 

“Dude, are you _serious?”_

 

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “Ned, please…”

 

“Do you even understand how crazy psycho this dude is!? He targets _kids our age,_ are you sure it’s a good idea to—"

 

“Ned,” Peter cuts him off. “That’s _exactly_ why I need to go after him. He’s in Queens, he’s after _us,_ if I don’t catch him… how many other victims are there going to be until the police find him?”

 

“Yeah but… isn’t that the police’s job? They’ll find him eventually…”

 

“Well maybe I can find him faster,” Peter shrugs. “Come on, don’t argue with me man. You know I have to do this.”

 

Ned looks at him sadly. “Okay… but seriously, don’t do anything crazy. This is big. I know you’ve faced the Vulture and stuff but this is like… a really big case.”

 

Peter nods. “I’ll be fine.” He hits Ned’s shoulder impatiently. “Come on, come on. Before May gets home.”

 

“Alright, geez.” Ned turns around and starts typing. “Just for the record, this is totally illegal. Like, probably a lot more illegal than hacking into your suit.”

 

They find a list of suspects, who’s been interviewed so far, potential leads, and potential locations that the murderer might appear next based on current patterns.

 

Peter decides to start with those.

 

“Thank you so much,” he says sincerely as Ned prints out some of the info. “You can add ‘helped catch a serial killer’ to your resume.”

 

“Yeah, like I can ever actually talk about this,” Ned pouts. “But seriously… I think you have to catch him first.”

 

“I will,” Peter says with conviction.

 

—

 

Tony texts Peter after school.

 

_Notice a lack of Spider-Man activity. Is this something I should be concerned about?_

 

Peter grimaces at his phone. Tony has been oddly attentive lately. Back when they’d first met, Peter had been starving for his attention, but now it feels a bit intrusive, like Big Brother monitoring all his actions.

 

_Everything’s fine, May just took my suit for a few days. I should be getting it back soon._

 

Tony texts back in seconds. _What for?_

 

_Nothing bad, she just worried too much that I was out late so she took it away so I would stop._

 

_Well I can’t say I disagree with her. Now’s probably not the best time for a kid to be out late._

 

Peter rolls his eyes. _You too? It’s like you guys keep forgetting I have super strength._

 

_I know, I know. But worry is irrational. You’ll get it when you’re older._

 

Peter doesn’t respond, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. May didn’t _need_ to worry about him, and neither did Tony. He could handle himself.

 

—

 

“Karen, can I talk to you about something?” Peter asks as he pulls out some poster board that he had left over from a school project. He’s wearing the mask that he finally got back mismatched with his casual clothes. “But only if you promise not to tell Mr. Stark about it?”

 

“I am only required to tell Mr. Stark if it is life threatening,” Karen responds. “So as long as you are safe, all of our conversations are private.”

 

“Okay, cool,” Peter pulls out the file of info about the case and a pair of scissors. “So I have a bunch of data that Ned got for me, I was wondering if I would be able to run it by you and get your opinion.”

 

“Sure thing,” Karen says cheerily.

 

“Awesome, thanks,” he takes out the stack of papers pertaining to the case, complete with mugshots of the suspects, and a map of Queens.

 

“So,” he flattens out the map and tapes it to the poster board. “Here is where the bodies have been found so far…” he takes a red sharpie and circles all the areas where bodies have been found, labeling them with the number of the victim as well as their last name. “And _here_ is where they went missing.” He takes a green sharpie and does the same thing, pulling the info from the police files.

 

“Do you see any pattern?”

 

Karen is silent for a few moments, collecting data. “Besides the lack of surveillance, the bodies were all taken from relatively remote areas, but left in public areas so they would be easily found.”

 

“Exactly,” Peter points the sharpie at the map. “So clearly, this guy is looking for an audience. Why does he want the bodies to be found? That makes it easier to find him, doesn’t it? It leaves clues.”

 

“Possibly,” Karen muses. “But it also strikes fear in the public.”

 

“So he wants them to be afraid,” he taps the sharpie against his bottom lip. “Of him?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Peter looks down at the police files again. The mugshots glare up at him. Each suspect looks menacing in his own right, and they all have criminal pasts. It could be any one of them.

 

He takes the scissors and carefully cuts out all of them, taping them below the map, and then cuts out their connection to the case. There’s four of them in total that have been most closely tied to the case.

 

Then he takes the list of evidence: footprints found at the scene of the crime: dress shoes, men size 10. Then he turns back to his map.

 

“Hey, Karen? Do you know which places in Queens _don’t_ have surveillance?”

 

“Based on the current locations, there are 24 locations in Queens that lack surveillance and match the description of locations that have so far led to disappearances.”

 

“Perfect! We’ll set up some drones in those areas and you can send me alerts if something pops up.”

 

Peter props up the poster board against his wall and steps back to examine it.

 

“Hmm… alright, am I missing anything on this board?”

 

“It’s very thorough, Peter, I’m impressed,” Karen compliments.

 

“Aw, thanks Karen.”

 

—

 

He goes out on patrol the next day and leaves several drones around the city in the areas that Karen highlighted as potential targets. By the time he crawls back into bed, he’s completely worn out.

 

“I really hope this works,” he mumbles as he crashes into his pillow.

 

He doesn’t hear anything for a long time, neither from Karen or the news. It’s as if the killer has taken a vacation or something, because over a month goes by without hearing anything. Peter has half a mind to believe that maybe he’s just… stopped. It seems to leave the public eye after a while and the panic dies down a bit.

 

So when Peter gets a ping in the middle of the night on his patrol, he’s surprised to see that it’s from one of the many drones he’s left around.

 

“Wait, Karen, what’s this!?” he asks excitedly, already webbing himself to the location the alert was sent from.

 

“Our surveillance shows a man assaulting a person, presumably with the intent to kidnap. The victim is a young male between 15 and 18, and the kidnapper appears to be a middle-aged Caucasian man wearing dark clothes and protective gear. He fits the MO of the Queens Killer. He’s drugged the victim and is taking him to his car.”

 

“Oh shit,” Peter says and goes faster. Luckily, he’s not very far away and if he can just reach the area before he gets in the car…

 

“The victim is in the car.”

 

 _Car chase it is then._ Peter reaches the park right as the car peels out of the parking lot. He quickly shoots a web and redirects himself towards the street. If the car notices him tailing it, it doesn’t show any signs.

 

“Karen, how do I stop this guy?” Peter asks, getting closer and closer.

 

“May I suggest getting in front of the windshield and cutting off his vision?”

 

“I like the way you think.”

 

Peter shoots a web and attaches it to the bumper of the car. He immediately feels the tug and gets pulled towards the vehicle.

 

“Woah!”

 

He braces the web with both hands and falls toward the pavement. It knocks the wind out of his lungs and he can feel the scrape of the cement. The car speeds up, probably noticing it’s extra passenger.

 

Peter grits his teeth and pulls closer and closer. He reaches out and touches the bumper, sticking to it. He pulls himself up and off the pavement that’s starting to burn through the fabric of his suit and Tony would _kill_ him if he had to repair it again.

 

He crawls up and over the car, around the windshield, where he knocks politely.

 

“Excuse me, mister! I think you might have something in your trunk that you _definitely_ shouldn’t have. Or rather, someone.”

 

The man looks startlingly _normal._ He’s maybe in his thirties, with brown hair and eyes, and completely average features. He doesn’t recognize him from any of the mug shots and he certainly doesn’t look like someone who has a criminal history. It throws Peter off. He figured that someone who was capable of committing such heinous crimes should look sinister. But he just looks like a regular guy.

 

The guy immediately skids to the side of the road as soon as Peter makes his appearance. It’s a relatively quiet road surrounded by trees. The park had been on the outskirts of the city already, and it was easy to dip out into a more secluded location. Peter swears. Of course, the killer would have a remote hideout far from the public eye.

 

Peter jumps off the hood of the car as soon as the guy opens his door.

 

“You’re the Spider-Man,” he says breathlessly, with a smile that makes Peter uneasy.

 

“Uh… yeah,” Peter replies. “And I’m here to take you down.”

 

“I was really hoping you’d show up soon,” the killer replies and then whips out a gun from his pocket.

 

Peter’s hands fly into the air on instinct. “Woah, hold on man!” The guy walks closer and closer to him, closing the gap. In a panic, Peter flings his wrist forward and webs the barrel of the gun, yanking it back towards himself. The man stumbles forward and Peter uses that moment to dart past him towards the trunk.

 

“Come on, come on,” It’s predictably locked, so Peter yanks it open, breaking the mechanism keeping it shut.

 

Inside there’s a kid that looks around the same age as Peter. He’s bound and gagged and still passed out, body folded to fit in the tight space. Peter forces down bile and focuses on breaking the bonds on the teen.

 

Before he even gets a chance to, the man has caught his bearings and wraps his arms around Peter’s neck in a headlock and yanks him back. Peter easily flips over in his arms and releases his grip with his superior strength. He webs the guy’s hand to the ground and runs back to the trunk.

 

“Sorry dude, wait there a second,” he says as he finally breaks the kid free from the chains. He removes the gag but he’s still sleeping. He taps his face gently. “Hey, psst, wake up.”

 

“He’s going to be asleep for a _while,”_ the man behind him says and he turns around to fix him with a glare except he has to do a double take because he’s _getting up_ and the webbing is gone, how—?

 

The man chuckles like he can see Peter’s thought process. “You’re not my first spider.”

 

Before Peter can even ask what that means, the man surges forward and pulls a syringe out of nowhere. Peter’s Spidey senses flare even though he’s pretty sure whatever drug the guy has in there won’t work on him, or at least won’t be very effective. He dodges out of the way, pushing the guy’s head towards the bumper and slamming him into it.

 

He spins around and watches the guy get up slowly, blood gushing from his nose. He puts his hand up against it and pulls it away, looking down at the red staining it. He looks back up at Peter with a sneer.

 

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

 

Peter’s Spidey senses send shivers up his spine, but he can’t run… he needs to stay and save the boy in the trunk.

 

The man lunges for him again and he flips over him, landing on top of the open trunk. He grabs the boy under the arms and hoists him out, jumping to the nearest tree and climbing up it as fast as he could. It’s no skyscraper, but it’ll do.

 

He reaches the highest stable branch and perches the boy on it gently. It should be able to hold him for a bit. Peter himself is holding on to the side of the tree via his sticky fingers.

 

“Karen, call the—”

 

A sudden pain spasms through his entire body. He convulses with the surges— _electric shock—_ and he can feel himself falling, falling, and thudding to the ground harshly. His body still twitches uncontrollably after the pain has stopped. His limbs feel like putty.

 

“Fucking nuisance,” he hears the man grumble from a few feet away. His footsteps come closer and Peter’s senses blare at him to run. He’s starting to get feeling back in his limbs… his fingers twitch, he needs to just…

 

Before he can move, however, the man plunges a syringe into his neck and pushes down.

 

Peter lets out a shout of pain and jerks away. The fire entering his veins spurs his body into action and he scrambles away from the man. But the world spins as he moves and he’s hardly righted himself before he’s falling again. He feels like he’s floating underwater. His senses are dampened, his vision is foggy and his hearing is murky and distant.

 

“Wha…?” He slurs, his tongue filling his entire mouth and his head full of cotton balls.

 

“Shh… just go to sleep,” a voice coaxes and he feels his mask being pulled off. He tries to protest, but he’s so tired, and his arms aren’t working, and they give out under him and now he’s lying down, watching the sky.

 

“Oh, look at you. You’re even younger than I thought.” The voice tsks. “This is going to be fun.”

 

The man’s hands wander his body and he wants to push them away but he can’t, his hands aren’t cooperating.

 

“How the fuck do you…” the man grumbles to himself again. “Oh…”

 

He presses the spider emblem on his chest and the suit collapses. Peter feels the man peel it off of him until he’s just in his boxers, exposed to the chill of the night air. The man leaves for a minute and Peter doesn’t know where he goes, just keeps on staring at the sky and counting the stars. He vaguely knows he should run, but he’s tired… so tired…

 

He turns his head to look down at himself tiredly. He needs to stay awake and fight but… wait. With the suit off, he’s able to see the glint of a small bracelet on his wrist. _The panic button Tony gave him._ A flicker of hope bursts in his chest. If he can just…

 

He doesn’t know when the man is going to be back, so he tries to go fast. It’s hard when his arms feel like dead weight, like he slept with both of them above his head and woke up without feeling in either of them, but he manages to cross them over his chest. His fingers feel for the button and he finally locates it, pressing as hard as he can for _one, two…_

 

“What the fuck is that?”

 

The man is back. He grabs Peter’s hand and inspects the gadget on his wrist. “What did you do, huh? Jesus, kid, you’ve been nothing but trouble. You better be fucking worth it.”

 

He rips the bracelet off and tosses it off the side of the road, into the trees. Peter looks after it forlornly, his one chance at escape…

 

He feels himself being dragged but he doesn’t fight it. He can’t… he feels dazed and staying awake is becoming harder and harder. He’s picked up and lowered into a tight space. His limbs are arranged and he feels his arms getting pulled behind his back, wrapped up by something, and then his feet. His Spidey sense is but a vague buzz in the back of his head.

 

The man strokes his hair fondly and he doesn’t have the strength to pull away. “Good boy,” he says. “I have special plans for you.”

 

Peter tries to glare at him through half-lidded eyes as a gag is forced around his mouth.

 

The man slams the trunk shut and he’s enveloped in darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget about those tags...

Tony is in the middle of a late night Skype meeting with foreign investors when the panic button alarm goes off. 

 

He quickly excuses himself, apologizing for his hasty exit and promises to reschedule soon. As soon as he logs off, he calls Peter. He doesn’t pick up. 

 

“FRIDAY, get me Peter’s location,” he demands.

 

“He seems to be out of the city, boss,” FRIDAY responds, a map pulling up on his computer to highlight his location. It looked like he was on a road leaving Queens but he… wasn’t moving? It wasn’t a residential area and all that was on either side of the road was trees. A pit formed in Tony’s stomach. Unless the kid’s car broke down and he was by himself without a phone, which was highly unlikely, he was in  _ serious  _ trouble. 

 

Without hesitation, Tony pulls away from his desk and taps his chest. The bleeding edge armor activates and covers his body. He makes his way to the penthouse exit and flies off. His HUD maps the way to Peter’s location and his estimated time of arrival is within ten minutes. It’s simply not fast enough to keep himself from mulling through the worst of possibilities. 

 

When he finally touches down on the road it’s past midnight, no cars in sight and the only light comes from his suit and the glow of the city in the distance. No Peter in sight. 

 

“FRI, has Peter’s coordinates moved since we took off?” 

 

“Not at all, boss.” 

 

Not what Tony wanted to hear. 

 

“Pete,” he calls out hesitantly. “Are you here? If you’re hiding, you can come out now.” 

 

He waits a few seconds in silence and hears nothing. 

 

“FRI, can I get some more light please?” 

 

The repulsors of his suit glow brighter in response. 

 

He raises his hands, waving them through the trees and trying to spot something that would give him a clue to where Peter was. 

 

“Kid?” he calls again when the reflection of something metallic catches his eye. He almost dismisses it until he realizes it looks kind of like a bracelet. 

 

He surges forward and grabs it, inspecting it closely. It’s unmistakable: it’s the panic button Tony gave Peter. 

 

“Son of a bitch,” he swears, looking around anxiously and hoping Peter will come out from behind a tree yelling  _ gotcha! _ “Does he have his suit? FRIDAY, track his suit.” 

 

His HUD lights up immediately with an arrow pointing further into the trees. 

 

“It seems that his suit is located 20 feet ahead, boss.” 

 

“What…?” Tony follows the blinking arrow forward, confused. His heart is beating fast, his brain providing images of Peter slumped on the ground, unmoving. But when he gets to the spot, it’s even worse. 

 

Peter’s suit is lying buried under the leaves. 

 

“Boss, you are experiencing a panic attack, please take deep breaths.”

 

He hears FRIDAY’s voice, but he doesn’t register it. His breaths come in short bursts and he clutches Peter’s suit tight in his fists. His mind immediately tries to rationalize what he’s seeing just as much as it’s coming up with all the worst possible scenarios. 

 

“Boss, you need to breathe.” 

 

He’s no help to Peter like this. He pushed the panic button because he was in trouble, so Tony needs to get his shit together and help. He gasps for air until he gets himself under control and his mind is a little clearer. He needs it to be working to figure this out. 

 

“FRI, is there any surveillance on this street?” 

 

“Sorry, boss. None.” 

 

Tony curses again.  _ Of course not. _ He begins making his way back to the street, suit in one hand and bracelet in the other. He can think of no other way around it: Peter must have been taken. 

 

_ By the Queens Killer,  _ he doesn’t want to admit, but he wonders. It couldn’t be, though. There’s no way a run-of-the-mill guy could take down Spider-Man, even if he was a psychopathic serial killer. Spider-Man had a lot of enemies, it could have been one of them. Neither option is a great one, though. 

 

He’s back by the main road when he hears rustling and a whimper coming from… above him? 

 

He looks up, shining the light from his repulsors into the trees. Sure enough, there’s a figure high up looking down at him that flinches at the light. Tony’s heart beats fast. Could it be…?

 

He flies up to the boy. “Peter?” he asks as soon as he’s close enough. 

 

The boys hands are in front of his face to block the light. Tony immediately moves his hands down and dims the lights so they’re not so bright. The boy removes his hands from his face and looks up. He has blue eyes and garishly dyed blue hair. It’s not Peter.

 

“Iron Man?” he asks, confused and disoriented. 

 

“Yeah, kid,” he responds, trying to hide his disappointment. “Who are you? Why are you in this tree?” 

 

“I… I’m Greg,” he responds slowly. “I… I don’t remember. I just woke up and I… wait.” 

 

He looks around like he’s searching for something and Tony grabs him by the arm to prevent him from falling. 

 

“There was a guy. I was just walking home and he came up to me and he… he shot me up with something. I fell asleep and I just woke up here.” 

 

Tony’s stomach drops. “Can you describe what the guy looked like?” 

 

“Yeah, um… he was kinda old, like maybe in his 30s or 40s… he was a white dude, brown hair, kinda ordinary. I don’t know.” 

 

Tony nods and breathes deeply. A man that drugged a teen and kidnapped him… only for him to wake up in a tree with Spider-Man’s suit below, but no Spider-Man… he didn’t want to do the math, but the equation was there.

 

“Okay, kid,” he finally says. “Let’s get you down.” 

 

But even as he says that, the kid is already slipping from the branch, jumping off it like it  _ isn’t _ fifty feet in the air. Tony shouts and extends his hand to catch him, but before he can even move toward him, Greg  _ glows blue _ and slowly floats down until he’s safely on the ground, landing on both feet. Once he’s down, the blue fades away.

 

Stunned, Tony touches down next to him, removing his faceplate. His expression must convey his shock, because the boy tenses as soon as he looks up.

 

“Um,” he says intelligently. “Please don’t tell my mom and dad.” 

 

—

 

Peter wakes up slowly, feeling groggy and sore, and becomes aware of several things at once: he is in a chair, he is chained to the chair, he is only in his boxers, and he is completely alone. 

 

His eyes snap open and he notices it’s dark but the room he’s in is expansive and empty. It looks to be mostly concrete, with some crates lining the far walls. He must be in a warehouse of some sort, but it doesn’t look like it’s being used. There’s nothing else that gives him any description of where he is. 

 

Goosebumps rise on his flesh, the coldness of the room seeping into his bones. He lacks the clothing to insulate himself. He feels exposed in just his underwear and he flushes at the idea of someone binding him to the chair whilst he’s almost completely naked. 

 

Speaking of, he tugs at the chains on his wrists. They’re strong, but they shouldn't be strong enough for him. However, they don’t break. Peter’s head swims and his limbs feel loose and detached. Whatever he was drugged with must still be in his system and it’s messing with his super strength. It shouldn't be able to do that. How can it do that? Unless it was specifically made for him, it would have killed the average person. 

 

Peter wiggles in the chair, trying to gauge how much shit he’s in. His wrists are bound to the arms of the chair, his ankles are bound to the legs, and there’s a chain wrapped around his torso keeping him pinned to the back. It’s made of some sort of metal, which only succeeds in making him more cold, but it shouldn’t be a match for his strength under normal circumstances. If he can just wait until the drug leaves his system… 

 

He hears a door creak open behind him and footsteps approaching. He attempts to spin around to look at who it is but the chair offers limited movement and he can only see them in his periphery. He yanks more at the chains but they still don’t budge. 

 

“Go ahead, struggle all you want,” the voice says behind him. “You’re not my first victim with super strength.” 

 

Peter isn’t sure what to make of that. “What?” he asks. “Who are you?” 

 

The man finally walks in front of him, his arms folded behind his back. Peter recognizes him as the guy from the car. 

 

“Who I am doesn’t concern you… although you probably know me as the Queens Killer. Not very creative, although it  _ is _ accurate, and it gets the point across. Truthfully, I never meant to limit myself to just Queens, but it does help to stay somewhere familiar. Plus, I knew if I stalked your romping grounds for long enough, I’d eventually find you.” 

 

“...What?” Peter repeats. His mouth feels dry.

 

The man smiles. “I’ve had a lot of fun these past couple of months, but those other kids? They’ve just been appetizers… you’re the main meal.” 

 

Peter gulps at the analogy. “W-What do you want?” 

 

“What do I want? I already have what I want. I have  _ you _ at my complete mercy. What I  _ need  _ now is to pull you apart, find the source of your powers and take them away bit by bit. I’ll strip you down until you’re just like the rest of us… pathetically  _ human.  _ Then I’ll leave you where they can find you and see what you really are: not powerful, not invincible, but a weak, fallible  _ kid  _ who was taken down by someone who he thought was beneath him.” 

 

Peter’s stomach coils and his head spins and he’s not sure if it’s the drugs still in his system or the fear. The hair on his arms stand on end and the back of his neck tingles but he can’t run, he can’t dodge, and he can’t escape. 

 

He thinks about May begging him not to walk to school alone, and Mr. Stark giving him the panic button, and Ned telling him this was dangerous… and how he ignored it all because he thought he was too strong for anything bad to ever happen to him. 

 

He bitterly thinks  _ they were right _ as the man wheels a table from behind Peter that he didn’t see before. It’s metallic and looks like it was taken from a hospital, as well as the supplies on it. There are scalpels and surgical knives, needles and tubes and so many things that Peter doesn’t know what they’re for and he doesn’t  _ want  _ to, but he has the sinking feeling he’ll discover their purpose very soon. 

 

The man picks up a scalpel and looks up at Peter calculatingly. His smile makes him squirm and he pulls weakly at the chains binding him. The man approaches the chair without saying anything, scalpel still in hand. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Peter asks in a panicked rush. “Stop! Tell me what’s going on!” 

 

The man just laughs. “Are you sure you want to know? Isn’t there something lovely about ignorance? Some things are better left unknown.” 

 

That doesn’t ease Peter’s fear one bit. The man crowds his face and he leans back, straining against the chains once more. 

 

“Isn’t it funny?” he asks. “Becoming so used to being strong enough to lift a two ton car over your head, and now you can’t even break some flimsy steel chains? It must be maddening.” 

 

He lifts a needle to Peter’s neck that he didn’t notice before. It stings as he plunges it in and he feels the rush of drugs flowing through his system immediately. 

 

“This is enough to kill a normal man, but it’s just enough to weaken someone like you. I’ve perfected it over the past couple of years.” 

 

Peter gasps. The fight is completely knocked out of him and he feels boneless and pliable. It’s terrifying. He can barely struggle at all, just watch in acute terror as the man kneels down brings the scalpel up to his hand. 

 

“Spider DNA… it’s fascinating,” the man hums as he massages Peter’s palms. “It’s really interesting how you can stick to walls with just your bare hands, isn’t it? How is that possible? Sticky fingers?” 

 

He looks up at Peter inquisitively. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think the man expects him to. He traces the scalpel up his palm gently. Peter’s breath comes out in short, shallow gasps. 

 

“Let’s see if you can still stick to walls with no skin left on your hands.” 

 

He cuts into Peter’s palm, starting from the bottom and slicing up. 

 

Peter screams. 

 

—

 

“FRIDAY, pull up Spider-Man’s recording history, let’s start with the last twenty four hours, shall we?” 

 

Tony enters his lab in a flurry, the kid from the tree dropped off safely at home, his number acquired in case Tony needed him for more questioning. But as far as their conversation on the ride to his house went, all the kid remembers is being knocked out and waking up in a tree, so not very helpful. 

 

The screens in the lab light up as they fast forward through footage seen from Peter’s eyes as he webs through New York, stopping petty crimes, nothing out of the unusual. But towards the end, something changes. His usual route shifts and he’s heading towards the more residential side of Queens, towards a wooded area that’s definitely not Spidey’s typical forte. No one’s even there, save for a car driving away that… Peter starts chasing down. 

 

“Woah, woah slow down,” Tony demands, and the footage slows to real-time. 

 

Peter is being dragged behind the car, shouting to Karen for advice. Tony looks for a plate, but there is none. It must only have a plate on the front, something that is annoyingly legal in the state of New York. Nothing to go on there, besides the model, which he jots down. 

 

In the video, Peter makes his way to the front of the vehicle and peers inside the windshield. There’s a clear shot of a man inside matching the description that Greg had given him. 

 

“FRI, run facial recognition on that guy  _ now.”  _

 

Tony sits and watches the whole thing. He watches Peter scramble up the tree and deposit Greg safely on a branch, he sees him fall to the ground. He keeps his eyes trained on the screen until the man fumblingly locates the unlocking device on his suit and the video feed is cut off. It doesn’t take a lot of critical thinking to deduce what happens next. 

 

“FRI, do you have any matches on that facial recognition yet?” 

 

“We have a potential match, boss,” FRIDAY says. “Trevor Ahern, 36.” A corresponding image pops up on the big screen the video had played on. “He has no criminal record.” 

 

Tony stares at the picture. It looks like a license photo. The man is smiling. “You got a work history? Address?” 

 

“Yes boss,” she replies. “He lives in a suburb outside of New York. He was laid off at SHIELD when his program shut down, and now he works as a lab technician.” 

 

Tony narrows his eyes. “SHIELD? What was he doing there?” 

 

“He was a scientist that specialized in genetic mutation.”

 

Tony feels his blood freeze.  _ Genetic mutation.  _ He thinks of Greg, and how he glowed blue and floated off the tree like he weighed nothing. He thinks of Peter and his enhanced abilities. 

 

“Pull up a list of all the victims of the Queens Killer so far.” 

 

Six names and photos appear on the screen in a list. Most of the photos are yearbook photos, selfies, or badly cropped profile pictures… whatever the parents released to the media to represent their child before they were maliciously killed. 

 

“Look through… look through medical histories, school reports, social media posts,  _ anything… _ just look for anomalies. Are any of them genetically mutated?” 

 

FRIDAY is silent as she gathers info. “Results are inconclusive. There are no official reports that any of these victims were mutants.”

 

Tony is confused, until he remembers what Greg said.  _ Don’t tell my mom and dad.  _ And he thinks of Peter.  _ Please don’t tell Aunt May.  _ Of course. Kids feel an inherent desperation to keep these things a secret from their parents, from the world. If it was documented, Tony would have heard about it. But how did it escape medical reports? 

 

Unless Tony was thinking about this the wrong way… it couldn’t have been a coincidence that Greg and Peter were both taken by the Queens Killer and possessed enhanced abilities. He would not have been able to overpower them otherwise. But how did he find out? 

 

Peter was easy to figure out. He paraded around New York in spandex shooting webs from building to building. He practically wore a neon sign that said  _ I AM A MUTANT.  _ But how did he find out about Greg? Tony didn’t even know about him, he definitely didn’t make a habit of fighting crime in his free time. 

 

Well, there was only one way to find out. 

 

“FRIDAY, get me this guy’s address. Enough speculating… it’s time to pay him a visit.” 

 

—

 

Peter heaves. Tears stream down his face and his body is ignited with pain radiating from his hands and feet. He’s afraid to look down, afraid to see the damage. 

 

The man is gone. He left for a break, or maybe he’s not coming back. He’ll just leave Peter here to die. He doesn’t know, but he’s glad he’s gone, at least for now. Peter feels completely humiliated and degraded. The man took so much  _ pleasure  _ from torturing him. His crying and screams only urged him on. His begging only made him laugh. 

 

He looks down hesitantly and gags in disgust. The palms of his hands and heels of his feet are completely gone, leaving them bloody and deformed. Peter wonders if he would ever be able to stick to things with them again even if they healed. 

 

But he won’t get the opportunity to find out. Not if he doesn’t figure out a way to get out. This is the Queens Killer, he knows how the story ends. In a couple of days, he would be found dead by a random stranger and his death would be broadcasted all over the news as another tragic victim to the Queens Killer. Would people even know he was Spider-Man? 

 

Did May know he was missing? He wonders if Tony figured out what happened yet, if he located his distress call. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. Any tracker he had on him was gone now and he has no idea where he is. He would never figure it out in time. Even if Peter managed to escape, how far could he get with his feet mangled? Where would he go? 

 

Dread settles in the pit of his stomach. He is well and truly screwed. 

 

A panicked sob forces its way out of his throat at the thought and he squeezes his eyes shut.  _ Calm down, calm down,  _ he demands himself.  _ Think of a way out, you’re not going down without a fight.  _

 

He struggles against the chains again. Some of his strength has returned, but not  _ enough.  _ Whatever is in that drug has effectively sapped him of his abilities. He feels weak, weaker than he’s ever felt in his life. If he were to stand he would probably just collapse to the floor. 

 

He hears the door behind him opening again and his heart pounds in his chest.  _ No, not again.  _ He struggles with more vigor, trying to slip his wrists between the chains, but doing so ignites an intense pain in his still bloody hands and he gasps. 

 

“Ready for round two?” The man asks cruelly, smirking as he circles around to observe Peter. “Ah… that looks painful. I wouldn’t move too much if I were you.” 

 

Peter glares up at him through sweaty bangs. The man takes his hand in between his fingers and squeezes, causing Peter to yelp and grit his teeth. 

 

The man lets go and moves to his surgical table, picking up instruments and inspecting them. 

 

“Tell me, Spider… are your webs organic? How do you produce them?” 

 

Peter’s eyes widen. “N-no… I-I have web shooters, I manufacture them myself. They’re… they’re not real webs. Just… part of the gimmick.” 

 

The man looks at him in disappointment, lowering the knife he was holding. That’s not the answer he wanted to hear. Peter takes a deep, shaky breath. 

 

“Oh well, for symbolic purposes, shall we?” the man decides and raises the knife again. 

 

“N-no!” Peter shouts, sliding as far back in the seat as he can. His feet skid across the floor and the pain is so sharp his vision whites out for a second. “Please, no! Don’t!” 

 

He doesn’t even need to be told what’s going to happen. The man grabs his arm and flips it over until his wrist is facing up. Peter tries to flip it back over but the man grips his bloody hand so hard that he screams. 

 

“Struggling will only make it hurt more,” he says apathetically and drags the knife ruthlessly down his wrist. 

 

Peter screams again, screwing his eyes shut. Panic lights his body on fire.  _ I’m going to die, I’m going to die,  _ he thinks wildly.  _ This is going to kill me.  _

 

There’s a clean line from Peter’s wrist up to his elbow. He looks at it in shock and feels like he can’t breathe. It takes a second for blood to start seeping out of it, but once it starts it  _ keeps coming.  _

 

“It’s too bad you don’t actually have webs, huh?” the man asks casually as if he wasn’t leaning over Peter’s bloody wrist. “I would have really enjoyed tearing your spinnerets out. Perhaps I’ll just snap your tendons instead?” 

 

The man moves to his other side but Peter hardly even notices, he feels so lightheaded. His wrist throbs in fiery pulses, and it’s the only thing anchoring him to consciousness. When the man starts cutting into the second wrist, he passes out. 

 

—

 

Tony doesn’t even bother knocking. He busts the door open like it’s made of cardboard, his repulsors up and ready as soon as he’s through the threshold. He’s met with an empty room. 

 

“If you’re here, come out with your hands up!” Tony calls into the silence. “You’re busted.” 

 

No response. Tony walks around slowly, trying to keep his breathing under control. 

 

“FRIDAY, anyone here?” he asks. 

 

“Negative, boss. I’m not picking up any heat signatures.” 

 

Tony lowers his arms in defeat. “What about… any secret rooms?” 

 

“It doesn’t appear so.” 

 

“Fuck,” Tony lowers his faceplate and runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s a Saturday, so he’s not at work…” He doesn’t want to think of where he could currently be. “He must have a remote place that he takes his victims to. Let’s look for clues here, I guess.” 

 

Tony exits the suit and rummages through his desk, downloads his personal files, even checks out his damn DVD collection. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He goes into the kitchen just for kicks and opens the fridge. He immediately recoils. 

 

Everything in the fridge has expired. It reeks like rotten meat. He closes the door immediately. 

 

“So it looks like he hasn’t been home in a while…” Tony huffs. 

 

He heads back to the front door, hopping back into the suit. He doesn’t feel any closer to answers, but he hopes the flash drive of his personal files offers some. Mainly, where is he taking his victims? Clearly he doesn’t frequent his own home. There must be some sort of hideout or base that he can depend on to safely conceal his morbid hobby. A family cabin, a beach house… somewhere remote where he can fulfill his dark desires in private and knows he won’t be interrupted. 

 

“Boss, incoming call,” FRIDAY announces, and a picture of May Parker pops up in the HUD of his suit. 

 

“Shit…” 

 

He’d been trying to hold it off, hoping he would be able to call her with good news before she got the chance to panic, but he couldn’t lie to her and he couldn’t ignore her either. 

 

He answers the call. “Hey May…” 

 

“Hi Tony,” she greets cheerfully, but he can tell she’s nervous. “Is Peter with you? He won’t answer my calls. He didn’t come home last night and I know he was out on patrol but he didn’t tell me if he stayed the night somewhere. I called his friend Ned and he hasn’t seen him… I was hoping maybe he visited the compound…?” 

 

She trails off, sounding hopeful but nervous. Tony wants so badly to tell her,  _ no problem, he’s with me. Give him a good yelling at for not calling, he’s totally safe.  _ He closes his eyes and breathes. 

 

“May, I… I don’t know where Peter is either. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Oh…” May says. “Oh god, okay. Um… his suit? It has a tracker in it right?” 

 

“I found his suit. I just haven’t found… him.” 

 

“W… what?” May’s voice is so small. 

 

“The suit… I found it in a clearing outside of Queens late last night.” Tony presses his fingers to his eyes. “I was hoping I’d be able to find him before this morning but…” 

 

May is silent. The silence drags on for so long that at first he thinks she might have hung up, but then he hears her panicked breathing. 

 

“Oh god,” she blurts out. “I’m calling the police.” 

 

“Definitely do that,” Tony responds. “But also know I’m doing everything in my power to find him too. I won’t rest until he’s back home safe.” 

 

“Is it… is it… do you think it could be…” she struggles, but he knows exactly what she means. 

 

“I don’t know,” he lies. It’s easier that way for now. He doesn’t want to say anything to upset her more until Peter is found. 

 

He can hear her increasingly ragged breathing over the phone and the telltale signs of muffled crying. 

 

“May,” he interrupts desperately. “I’m gonna find him, I swear. I’m looking for him right now.” 

 

“Please,” she begs. “Please bring him home safe.” 

 

“I promise,” Tony says, and it’s a steep promise. He has no intention of breaking it. “Do you need anything? I can have Happy pick you up and take you to the compound, I can—“ 

 

“No,” May says. “Just… focus on finding Peter.” 

 

Tony closes his eyes and swallows down the guilt. He feels like he let May down, like he is personally responsible for Peter’s disappearance. He should have done better. 

 

“I will.” 

 

—

 

Peter wakes up with a sharp gasp. He has no idea how long he’s been out, but the man is gone again. Is it the next day? There’s no way to tell how much time has passed. His hands, feet and wrists are throbbing painfully, but he’s still alive. He looks down at his wrists and he’s shocked to see them stitched up with care. The thick black thread traveling up his arms looks rather disturbing and he wonders how many stitches it took. He’s thankful he was passed out for it, he doubted the man had any anesthesia on him. 

 

He tugs at his chains again. He still feels too weak, and now he has the added pain of his wrists to fight against. His hands and feet have healed surprisingly well, he notices. Not completely gone, but a layer of scabbed, raw skin has begun to grow over the open wounds. It’s an improvement, and better than he expected in his condition. 

 

He dreads what else the man has in store. Tony  _ has  _ to have figured out what’s wrong by now, he’s probably looking for him. But he can’t rely on him to find him on time. 

 

He hears the door open behind him and his heartbeat skyrockets.  _ No please,  _ he’s not ready for another round yet. How does he always know when he wakes up? There must be surveillance in the room somewhere...

 

The man doesn’t even say anything when he approaches, just kneels down and takes stock of his injuries. He tsks softly, gently touching Peter’s hands. 

 

“Super healing, huh?” He asks. “These wounds have closed up spectacularly.”

 

He gets up and moves to the medical table, picking up a long, serrated knife. He walks back to Peter slowly, who is eyeing the knife with increasing fear. The man smiles and kneels down in front of Peter, admiring the blade.

 

“That’s unfortunate. It makes everything that much more tricky.” 

 

Then without warning, he jams the knife into Peter’s torso, right under his ribs. He gasps, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The blade tears through his skin like tissue paper, white hot pain bursting through him like lightning. 

 

“Heal around  _ that,”  _ the man challenges with a smirk and pulls his hand away, the blade still plunged in his stomach. 

 

Peter feels tears slip down his face unbidden, still gasping from shock and pain. Every breath is like being stabbed over and over again, but he can’t calm down. His whole body trembles and his hands struggle and ache to pull the thing out, he wants it  _ out _ but it stays firmly in place, the serrated blade holding it still in his gut. 

 

“I’ll have to find a more effective way to slow your healing soon,” the man observes. “I just don’t want your hands and wrists healing prematurely. This should keep your healing factor preoccupied in the meantime.” 

 

Peter gasps shallowly around the intrusion. It feels like it’s pierced his lungs, he can’t breathe… 

 

“I’ll have to reopen them,” the man muses. 

 

Peter’s eyes snap to his. The man is already picking up a brand new scalpel. 

 

“Please, please… no, no, no,” Peter begs. 

 

His hands and feet still ache, blistering and red. He can’t bear it again, they’re too sensitive. 

 

“Stay still,” the man commands. 

 

It doesn’t make a difference, but he struggles anyways.

 

—

 

Once he’s back in the lab, Tony plugs in the USB containing Trevor’s hard drive. A cursory glance shows nothing interesting, but there’s an encrypted folder deep in his documents that’s promising. 

 

Decrypting it is like child’s play. Maybe to the average person it would have posed a challenge, but he doubts the man predicted Tony Stark sifting through his personal files. 

 

The folder contains several other folders, each labeled with two letters: EB, CM, AP, TS… initials, he realizes. He clicks on a folder. 

 

Elijah Bradley. One of the first victims. There’s extensive information on his life, his relations, how he did in school, his hobbies and interests all neatly laid out like a biography. This guy sure did his research. Then there was a separate folder with his medical history. Several areas were highlighted and annotated. Next to his blood work, a question mark.  _ Mutation detected in bloodstream,  _ a note read.  _ Possibly injected with super soldier serum.  _

 

But that didn’t pop up on his official medical records. 

 

“FRIDAY, what did you say this guy did for a living again?”

 

“He’s a clinical laboratory scientist, boss.” 

 

“And the lab reports he got… what was his specialization?”

 

“His clients include several pediatrician offices in New York.” 

 

“God  _ damn  _ it,” Tony pushes out of his seat and cards his hands through his hair. 

 

It’s all starting to make sense. These kids came in for routine tests, thinking they were safe. They probably didn’t think or hoped nothing abnormal would pop up. And their reports would go to this fucked up psycho to analyze, who took their results and saved them on his own personal server. He probably covered up the abnormalities when he returned the results so he wouldn’t be suspected and these kids thought they were scott free. 

 

He has a whole cache, Tony realizes, of initials he doesn’t recognize. Potential victims. Peter isn’t even one of them, he wasn’t a client of his. Tony has his own private medical team handle Peter’s routine exams to ensure his identity remains a secret. If he had just kept his head down like Tony  _ asked,  _ this wouldn’t have happened. Of course, the kid can’t stay out of trouble. How was he even able to find the man, though? Pure coincidence?

  
  
  


Tony’s phone rings and he looks down, broken from his thoughts.  _ May Parker.  _ He takes a deep breath. 

 

“Hello? May, I’m still looking—”

 

“You need to come here now,” she interrupts. 

 

“What? Did Peter…?” 

 

“I found something.” 

 

Her answer remains cryptic. Tony’s about to question her again when she says, “It’s about Peter. Please, come to the apartment.” 

 

Tony sighs. “Okay, I’ll be right there,” he promises and hangs up. 

 

Great, another pit stop. Before he leaves, he checks out the last folder in Elijah Bradley’s file. This time, instead of documents, it’s movie files. 

 

“What the…” 

 

He can tell from the thumbnail that it’s a video of a boy sitting in a chair… it must be Elijah. He clicks on it and the thumbnail enlarges. He realizes he’s not sitting in the chair… he’s  _ restrained  _ to it. He looks terrified. 

 

The goddamn psychopath took videos of himself torturing his victims. 

 

Tony jerks away from the desk, his chair clattering to the floor. 

 

“FRIDAY, send those files to the police. All of them. I’m heading out.” 

 

“Right away, boss.” 

 

Tony didn’t even watch the video, but he still feels shaken up. He’s able to visualize what’s happening to Peter so much better now, and he doesn’t want to. And to think that he’s being recorded. He can only imagine what the killer does with those videos.

 

He takes a deep breath. He needs to be composed for May. God, he doesn’t want to face her right now, but she said she found something important. Tony can only imagine what it is. 

 

He gets back in his suit and flies to the Parker apartment. An ostentatious form of travel, he admits, but he has no time to waste and it’s the fastest way to get there. 

 

He disengages as soon as he touches the ground and jogs up the flight of stairs. He knocks urgently at the door. May answers quickly. Her eyes are red rimmed and her hair is a mess. 

 

“You have to see this,” she says without preamble and leads Tony into the apartment. “I was looking through Peter’s room to see if I could find anything… and this was hidden behind his desk.” 

 

She gestures to a giant poster board propped up against the wall. There’s a map of Queens that’s marked up, mugshots, scribbled notes, and police reports pasted all over it. Sticky notes containing questions are pinned next to photos and highlighted text. All it needs is some red string and it could be straight out of a conspiracy theorist’s basement. Tony stares at it with wide eyes. 

 

May observes him, biting her nails. “This is… he was tracking down the Queens Killer, wasn’t he?” 

 

Tony swears. He can’t lie anymore, not when she already figured it out. He just nods. 

 

May’s breath hitches. “Unbelievable. After we  _ both  _ told him not to. I can’t…” 

 

She dissolves into panicked breaths. “So he… he found him right? Is the answer here? Where he is?” 

 

Tony scans the board over and over again. It’s practically illegible. “I don’t know…” he admits. “But I think I know someone who would.” 

 

—

 

Peter’s alone again. He’s slumped against the chair, staring at the ceiling. He can feel tears slide down his temples into his hairline and everything else he feels is just pain. 

 

Breathing is a struggle, with a giant blade still wedged in his stomach. He can only breathe in short, shallow gasps which leaves him feeling dizzy. 

 

Before he left last time, the man injected him with another dose of that drug to weaken him, but he honestly probably didn’t need to. Peter hasn’t eaten or drank any water since he got here, and with all the injuries his body is desperately trying to heal, he doesn’t have any energy. 

 

He closes his eyes. How long has it been now? Only a day, maybe two. That’s all it took for him to completely break. Pathetic. 

 

He wonders when he’s going to kill him. What else could he do? If he gains another injury, he feels like he won’t make it through it. He’s surprised he hasn’t died yet. 

 

He hears the door open behind him and this time he doesn’t even flinch. He knows the door opening equals pain, but he’s too tired to keep fighting. 

 

“How are you feeling today, spider?” the man greets. Peter looks at him lazily, his head still tilted back. “You look ready to try out my new concoction.” 

 

Peter’s eyebrows furrow. A concoction? More drugs. 

 

The man lifts a vial and wiggles it. “Made it last night. This should fix that little super healing problem…” 

 

He squeezes the sides of Peter’s jaw, forcing his mouth to open and tips the vial over and onto his tongue. Peter’s automatic reaction is to gag, the liquid tastes absolutely vile. 

 

_ “Ah, ah,” _ the man warns. “Swallow all of it.” 

 

He pushes Peter’s jaw closed and rubs at his throat, forcing him to swallow. Peter feels like he’s choking on it but it all slides down. The man lets go of his jaw and he coughs violently. 

 

“Good boy.” 

 

“What was that?” Peter gasps. 

 

“A poison,” the man responds simply. “It’ll slow down your immune system enough that it’ll stop messing with my work.” 

 

Peter feels himself sweat. A poison? 

 

“Don’t worry,” the man says after he sees Peter’s expression. “It won’t kill you. I don’t think so, anyways.” 

 

It’s then that Peter realizes he isn’t sweating from nervousness. His skin feels like it’s burning up. He pants, his mouth suddenly desperately dry. 

 

“Now that your healing factor is taken care of, let’s get back to business.” 

 

Peter looks up at him with half lidded eyes. His vision swims in and out of focus, and everything sounds muffled. The drug courses through his veins, wreaking havoc on his body. 

 

“Not much left to do now, Spider,” the man consoles him mockingly. “Soon you’ll be able to rest.” 

 

Peter knows what that means. He closes his eyes and his head falls back.  _ Please,  _ he thinks.  _ Please, Mr. Stark, get me out of here.  _

 

—

 

“FRIDAY, get Karen online.” 

 

Peter’s AI, named Karen for god knows what reason, is immediately connected. 

 

“Hello, Mr. Stark.” 

 

She calls him Mr. Stark too. Tony didn’t program her to do that. He doesn’t know why that makes him want to smile. 

 

“Karen, Peter’s been kidnapped and you have records of everything that happens to him in the suit. I’ve watched the footage of him being taken, is there anything else you can tell me about his abduction?” 

 

Karen actually pauses before answering. “Peter had been conducting an investigation of the Queens murders prior to his abduction.” 

 

She actually sounds worried… and guilty. And for good reason. 

 

“And why didn’t you tell me this?” 

 

“I’m not programmed to tell you about anything that Peter does unless it’s life threatening.” 

 

“And you deemed this non-life threatening?” Tony raises an eyebrow.

 

“The parameters are ones you set yourself,” Karen reasons with an even tone. It’s infuriating. “All his vitals were normal at the time of the investigation, so there was no need to send out a distress signal.” 

 

Tony rubs his eyes.  _ When you try to give the kid some space…  _

 

“Alright,” he bounces back. “What’s done is done. When this is over, I’m reprogramming your parameters. Let’s focus on the case. What did he conclude from his investigation?” 

 

“He set up a series of drones throughout Queens in areas he targeted from his research as hot spots for the killer. When he received an alert from one of the drones that there had been a hit, he was contacted.” 

 

“And let me guess… that’s how the guy got him.” 

 

“Correct. He was able to successfully rescue a potential victim, but I lost contact with him when the suit was taken off.” 

 

Greg Willis. The kid in the tree. 

 

“Can you show me the footage that set off an alert from that night?” Tony asks. 

 

“Sure thing.” 

 

The video from one of Peter’s drones pops up on the screen in front of him, the date, time, and location tagged below. In it, a familiar blue haired kid is walking by when a car pulls up. 

 

“That’s… that’s the guy, that’s the car,” Tony gasps. The video catches the front of the car, and there’s a  _ license plate _ . 

 

“FRI, run that plate right now!” he yells. In the video, the man gets out of the car and attacks the boy. “Stop the video. I don’t need to see any more. Track that license number.” 

 

“Tracking,” FRIDAY responds. 

 

In a matter of seconds, a map is pulled up. “Seems like he passed a toll road into New Jersey.” 

 

“New Jersey?” Tony asks. 

 

“He was also caught on several security cameras before the car disappears from all traffic surveillance. He should be somewhere in this location.” 

 

The map narrows down to a small patch of land on the coast. Tony studies it. 

 

“Remote, non-residential, perfect for murder…” he muses. “Alright. Let’s go, Iron up. We’re heading over there right now.” 

 

—

 

Peter writhes in his chair. The poison ignites pain in all of his nerves. The man said it wouldn’t kill him, but he’s not so sure. Maybe if he was at his peak strength and wasn’t suffering from blood loss… but as it is, he feels like it’s killing him. 

 

It’s a slow and painful death. Sweat drips down his face, his breaths coming out in ragged pants, and every small movement ignites scorching pain in his abdomen. Not only is he cramped and nauseous from the drug, but he is positive that the knife wound in his side is infected now. 

 

The man is at the medical table sorting through the equipment calmly. Peter peers at him lazily, his heart thumping hard in his chest. 

 

“What…” he swallows. “What else do you want from me?” 

 

The man turns to him and smiles. He wants to punch that smug look off his face. He hates it. 

 

“I think we’re ready now,” he says simply. 

 

Peter’s heart plummets. Ready? Ready for what? 

 

Is he going to kill him now? 

 

The man grabs a small, metallic object from the table and walks forward. 

 

Oh god. 

 

Is that what he’s going to kill him with? 

 

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. Is it a knife? Is he going to slit his throat? Is it going to be fast? Is it going to hurt? 

 

He can feel the man bend over him. His heart thumps in his chest. This is it… 

 

The chains loosen around his hands. 

 

Peter’s eyes fly open and he looks down. The man unlocked the chains… he was holding a key. 

 

_ What…?  _

 

He looks at him in confusion but the man doesn’t even acknowledge him as he unlocks the chains around his ankles. Peter rotates his wrists hesitantly. He wants to rub them, but his hands are still raw, painful even if they merely brush up against anything. His wrists aren’t faring much better, he sees now. They’re bloody and bruised from his struggling, adding to the already nightmarish stitching up his arms.

 

The man steps back, nodding down at Peter. 

 

“There, you’re free. Now is your chance, oh powerful Spider-Man. If you wish to escape, then do so.” 

 

Peter looks up at him and blinks. This is a trap. It has to be a trap. The man stands patiently, waiting for him to make a move. He doesn’t. 

 

_ “Stand up!”  _ the man suddenly yells and Peter jumps.  _ “Get on your feet!”  _

 

Peter scrambles to get up. As soon as he’s on his feet, the pain of standing on open wounds is too much and he immediately collapses. He hits the knife handle on the way down and the wound explodes in pain. His vision whites out. 

 

“Come on, is that all you can do?” the man mocks. “Don’t you want to escape, Spider-Man?” 

 

Peter sees what he’s doing now. He’s dangling freedom in front of his face. He’s giving him the option to leave, but he knows he can’t. He’s too weak. 

 

“If you can walk out of here, you can live,” the man taunts, confirming Peter’s theory. “Come on, not so strong and mighty now, are you?” 

 

Peter grimaces and tries to push himself up. The movement causes his stomach to roll uncomfortably. He turns to the side and heaves. Bile and blood splatters to the floor. 

 

The man spits on him. “All you mutants think you’re so much fucking better than us. But you’re not so special now, are you?” 

 

Peter rolls over onto his back and focuses on breathing. He can feel himself starting to lose consciousness, but he can’t. If he does, he might never wake up again. 

 

“I’ve taken away all your powers, and now people are going to see you for what you really are. Just wait until they find their precious hero dead and torn apart in a park… just a kid taken down by an ordinary person.” 

 

“You’re wrong,” Peter spits through the blood in his mouth. 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“You’re wrong,” Peter repeats. “I never thought I was better than anyone. I was just trying to help people.” 

 

The man sneers. “Oh yeah, by causing destruction throughout the city? I’ve seen what you enhanced people can do. Ever since the fuckin’ aliens came from the sky, nothing has ever been the same. And there’s been an increase in freaks like you. I knew what I had to do… exterminate you all before you get the chance to be the next generation of fuck ups. And Spider-Man was at the top of my list.” 

 

Peter processes what he just said. “The other kids… they were all like me too?” 

 

The man nods. “None of them were as obnoxious as you, though. Most have enough common sense to keep their abnormalities a secret. But given time, I knew they would all eventually end up just like you. It’s in your nature.” 

 

Peter’s mind is reeling. Or maybe he’s just losing consciousness. Either way, he knows he has to fight. He can’t die here, not when there will be more kids after him. And he knows who the man is now, he knows what he looks like and who he’s targeting. He has to escape. 

 

He rolls over, gasping as he does, and gets to his knees in painful increments. The man watches him curiously. 

 

“Still got some fight left in you?” he asks. 

 

Peter glares at him. “This isn’t over,” he says and grasps the hilt of the knife in his side. He braces himself and then yanks it out. 

 

He doesn’t even realize he’s screaming until it’s pointed at the man, bloody and menacing. He can feel the blood ooze out of the now open wound. His time is short, he has to move fast. 

 

He jumps to his feet and cries out in pain as he puts weight on them. The man approaches him and he backs up, wielding the knife. 

 

“Don’t get any closer,” he threatens. 

 

The man laughs. “You really think you can escape?” 

 

Peter doesn’t answer. He grits his teeth and turns, running for the wall. He jumps on it to scramble up it but instead of sticking, he slides down. He slumps on the ground, his hands and feet pulsing in pain at the attempt. He looks back at the wall in horror, his blood streaking down it where he slid.  _ He can’t stick.  _

 

He doesn’t have time to mull over it. He stands up shakily and runs to the door on the other side of the room instead. He collapses halfway there, but scrambles to get back up. When he finds that he can’t, he crawls. 

 

He feels a hand wrap around his ankle and yank him backward. He shouts and almost loses his grip on the knife, but he takes a hold of it with both hands and turns around, pointing it up at his attacker. 

 

The man has a knife of his own now. He straddles Peter and plunges it down but Peter intercepts it with his own, pushing it away with a strength he doesn’t even know he still possesses. 

 

The man looks angry and moves to grab his wrist. In a panic, Peter slashes at his hand. The man shouts as the blade slices across his palm. He yanks it away and Peter takes his momentary distraction to push him off of him. He scrambles backwards to get away, but the man recovers and sits back on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He smacks the knife out of his hand and it goes skittering across the floor. Both his wrists are pinned to the ground and the man hovers over him. 

 

“You don’t know how to give up, do you?” the man sneers. “No more playing around. I’m gonna kill you.” 

 

He wraps his hands around Peter’s neck and squeezes. 

 

—

 

Tony lands in the location Trevor’s car was last spotted in. It could be anywhere in a five mile radius from where it stopped getting picked up by security cams. It narrows it down, but not enough. 

 

“We’re losing daylight here, FRI,” Tony says. It’s already been two days. The victims usually show up around three days later. “Please tell me there’s a good hideout here that he would be in.” 

 

“There are a couple of unoccupied warehouses in this area,” FRIDAY supplies. 

 

“Okay, take me there,” Tony says, and his HUD lights up to lead the way. “Are they close together?” 

 

“Relatively. One is an abandoned storage unit that went out of business when the college in the area closed. Another used to be a medical facility in the 90s and early 2000s but it was relocated. It was used to package and store supplies for a while but has since been abandoned. A third was a factory for—“ 

 

“Hold up,” Tony interrupts. “Medical facility? Didn’t you say this guy is a clinical lab scientist?” 

 

“Correct,” FRIDAY says. 

 

“Does he have a connection to this place?” 

 

“Accessing his personal files,” FRIDAY says. “His resume lists the old medical facility as a previous work location. His office was later relocated to New York.” 

 

“Bingo! FRIDAY, take me to that building,” Tony demands. “I’m coming for you Pete…” 

 

— 

 

Tony busts into the facility, blasting the doors down with his repulsors. He’s immediately on the offensive, raising his hands and aiming them all over. 

 

His eyes land on a figure slumped over on the floor. At first he thinks they’re hurt, but then he sees the pair of legs underneath… 

 

“Hey!” he shouts. “Get off him now!” 

 

The man spins around. Trevor Ahern. He recognizes him from the photo. He looks a lot more menacing though, hunched over a limp body, covered in blood… 

 

_ Oh god… _

 

“You heard me! Stand up! Hands in the air!” 

 

The man looks shocked, then scared, then enraged. He turns back around to face the body—Peter—lying limply underneath him. He murmurs something and then reaches for a knife next to him. Tony didn’t see it there at first, but now he has it raised over Peter, aiming for his throat—

 

_ “NO!” _ Tony screams and blasts the guy with a repulsor before he can even think. 

 

He flies off of Peter and lands a few feet away, unconscious. 

 

“FRIDAY, call the police. And an ambulance,” Tony says as he runs over and grabs some chains on the ground as he passes  _ (don’t think about what those were used for)  _ and ties the guy up in case he wakes up. 

 

He turns to Peter. He’s motionless on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood. Tony can hardly recognize him. He’s pale, bruised, and bleeding in so many places, dressed only in his boxers… it doesn’t look like his chest is moving. 

 

Tony stumbles toward him unsteadily. He feels his hands shaking as he reaches toward him. 

 

“FRIDAY?” he chokes. 

 

“He’s alive, boss,” she answers the unasked question. “But barely. He needs immediate medical attention.” 

 

Tony lets out a massive sigh of relief. He’s still shaking, but some of the tenseness leaves his body.  _ Peter is alive.  _

 

“Is the ambulance on its way?” he asks. 

 

“It should be here in a few minutes.” 

 

Tony closes his eyes and leans forward, leaning his head on Peter’s chest. 

 

“Oh god,” he gasps. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he feels the rush of emotions surge forward. “Oh my god…” 

 

He feels the tears slip from his eyes and he reaches for Peter’s hand. It’s slick with blood. He squeezes it. 

 

He’s not in the clear yet. So much could go wrong still. Peter’s life is hanging on a string right now, and Tony begs him to hold on just a little longer. But even if he lives, it’ll take a long time to heal from these wounds… especially the trauma. But Tony found him. He found him alive and  _ he caught the killer.  _

 

“You’re so strong, Pete,” he whispers even though he’s unconscious and can’t hear him. “You’re so strong and brave and you’ve made it this far. Please don’t let go.” 

 

He hears sirens in the distance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: All the named victims are based off of real comic book characters. 
> 
> Greg Willis: Alias is Gravity. He was a normal teenager until a mysterious accident gave him the power of gravity manipulation. 
> 
> Elijah Bradley: Alias is Patriot. A founding member and leader of the Young Avengers, Elijah was given a blood transfusion by his grandfather that gave him the abilities of a super soldier (hence why the killer drained his blood). 
> 
> Thomas Shepherd: Alias is Speed. He's a member of the Young Avengers and in the comics he's actually the son of Scarlet Witch and Vision lol. He has super speed like his uncle. I mention his twin brother briefly in this fic, who is also actually a hero in the comics, Billy Kaplan a.k.a. Wiccan. 
> 
> Cindy Moon: Alias is Silk. She was also bitten by a spider and gained similar powers to Peter. Hence (and some people picked up on this) the killer's reference to having a "spider" as a victim before. Cindy is actually credited in the Homecoming movie as one of Peter's Decathlon teammates, so... wonder if she'll make an appearance in the MCU eventually... (But I killed her in this, sorry!) 
> 
> If anyone was able to figure it out before the reveal, good job!


	3. Chapter 3

When Peter wakes up, his head is pounding. His body aches and he feels weak. He turns his head to the side, his eyes fluttering open. There’s something on his face, he realizes, and wires connected to his arms. He’s in a bed. He’s in a hospital. 

 

He goes to yank the IVs from his arm, they itch and they’re uncomfortable, but a hand lands on top of them. 

 

“Hi Peter,” a soft, familiar voice says. “I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” 

 

He swivels his head the other way and May is standing above him smiling. Her eyes are red. 

 

Peter’s tongue feels swollen and there’s something on his face traveling down his throat, so he doesn’t answer. Instead, he goes back to trying to pick out the IV. 

 

“No, honey, don’t do that,” May says patiently, like she’s talking to a child. “Here, I’ll call the doctor for you.” 

 

She presses a button on the remote sitting next to his bed. He stares at May. She looks back up at him and smiles. 

 

“Are you in any pain, sweetie?” 

 

He blinks at her, his mind trying to concentrate on what she’s saying. After a moment, he nods sluggishly. He looks down at his body again and realizes he’s wearing a hospital gown and there are bandages on his hands. He wonders how long he’s been here. 

 

The doctor walks in, a young looking woman with dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. 

 

“Hi Peter, my name is Doctor Helen Cho. I’ve been overseeing your treatment. We’re glad to see you awake, you’ve been asleep for the past 24 hours.” 

 

Peter looks at her through half-lidded eyes but doesn’t react. 

 

“He’s still heavily sedated, so he may not be fully aware of his surroundings,” he hears her explain to May. 

 

“He said he was feeling some pain,” says May. “Is there anything we can do about that?” 

 

Helen purses her lips. “I can increase the morphine slightly, but we’re already far exceeding the recommended level. He will probably still feel some discomfort, but as long as the pain is manageable he should be okay.” 

 

She walks over to the IV to adjust the drip and keeps talking. “You will meet your nurses soon, they will be coming around to check in on you periodically. You should be extubated soon, we’re pretty sure most of the poison that was in your system has been excreted by now. We’ve hoping once you regain your strength the bandages on your hands and feet will be able to removed soon as well. You’re doing remarkably well, all things considered, even with the poison slowing down your metabolism.”

 

She walks back over and lowers the sheets, exposing his torso. She pushes his gown up (he’s not out of it enough to be thankful that he’s wearing shorts underneath) and he sees more dressing wrapped around his ribs and stomach. It looks like some blood has leaked through. Cho frowns down at it. 

 

“Your stab wound however…” she trails off. “It was heavily infected by the time you were brought in and there was internal bleeding. We’ve performed surgery on it and have you on strong antibiotics. This will probably take the longest to heal so we don’t want you moving around or trying to sit up. Okay?” 

 

Peter nods lazily, although he feels like he’s five seconds away from falling asleep again. Cho seems to notice this and she turns back to May. 

 

“He’s still heavily sedated from the pain medication, he will probably be in and out for the next couple of days. Whenever he wakes up, it will be good to just calmly explain to him where he is and what’s happening so he doesn’t panic.” 

 

May nods, grabbing Peter’s arm since his hands and wrists are bandaged. “Of course.” 

 

Peter feels himself drift off before Cho even leaves the room. 

 

—

 

The next time he wakes, the tube is gone. There’s still an oxygen mask on his face, but it feels a lot better. 

 

This time, Tony is in the room as well. Him and May are talking quietly by the window. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but Tony’s face looks troubled. His eyes flick up to meet Peter’s after a few seconds and he blinks in shock. 

 

“Peter,” he says quietly. May turns around. 

 

“Oh hi, sweetie,” she heads over and grabs his arm again. “Are you feeling better? You must be with that tube out.” 

 

Peter looks up at her blankly. He notices that Tony still hangs back. 

 

“You’ve been in and out of it for a while now,” May explains. “But you look more aware now. That’s good.” 

 

Peter furrows his brow. He doesn’t remember waking up more than that one time with Doctor Cho. 

 

“Do you remember what happened?” May asks gently. 

 

Peter blinks.  _ Remember… remember what? _ He thinks back… how did he get here…? 

 

Once he touches the memory, it all comes flooding back. He flinches back from it but it’s too late. The man. The car. The chair he was bound to for days. The torture. He remembers all of it.

 

He thought was dead. He thought it was too late to save him, but here he is lying in a hospital bed. The horror of those days replays over and over in his mind. Once he remembers, he can’t forget. He can’t go back to that oblivious bliss that the drugs had brought. 

 

His eyes tear up and that’s an answer enough for May. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” she says and squeezes his arm. 

 

He was supposed to be dead, like the others. They were all killed, tortured for days and their bodies dumped. All because they had a mutation, like him. He was supposed to be next, but he wasn’t. He’s still alive. 

 

Tony is still hanging back by the window, staring at them but not coming closer. Peter makes eye contact with him. He must look pathetically weak, in a hospital bed covered in bandages and IV wires, his eyes welling up with tears. Tony looks away with a guilty expression, and it causes Peter’s breath to quicken.  _ Please, look at me, _ he thinks.  _ Tell me it’s going to be okay. How am I supposed to be okay? _ But Tony doesn’t say anything. 

 

The beeping on the monitors increases. He’s aware he’s panicking, but he can’t stop. He’s supposed to be dead, but he’s somehow alive. Tony won’t look at him. He’s in a hospital bed completely incapacitated but he’s  _ alive _ and he shouldn’t be. He promised he wouldn’t go after the killer and he lied. And now here he is. 

 

“Shh, Peter, just breathe,” May soothes, rubbing his arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. That man is gone, he’s going to jail for a very long time. You’re here with us now.” 

 

Peter’s eyes drift to hers and he lets himself be comforted by her words. He has so many questions but he can’t speak right now, his throat still sore from the tube. So he just lets himself be coddled by May, a vast difference from how he was treated just a few days ago. He craves it. 

 

He eventually drifts off again with May soothing him the whole time. Tony never comes closer. 

 

—

 

Trevor Ahern kills himself in custody. 

 

After he was taken in for questioning, where the police got frustratingly little information out of him, they found him dead in his cell the next morning. Asphyxiation. 

 

“It’s probably for the best,” Tony says, sitting on his bed. “Now we don’t have to worry about him revealing your identity to every grimy inmate of his.” 

 

Peter nods. He knows it’s for the best, understands that someone in jail knowing his identity is a dangerous thing. He already has one person in jail who knows, he doesn’t need another. And it also means he won’t have to testify. He doesn’t think he would have been strong enough to face that man in court. 

 

But he also can’t help but feel angry. Angry that this man got out of facing the justice system for his actions. Angry that he took the easy way out instead of suffering in jail for his crimes. Angry that he’s gone and Peter is still here dealing with the trauma he put him through. 

 

Tony looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He pats his knee. “It’ll be alright,” he says finally, but it sounds empty. 

 

—

 

A week later, Peter is feeling much better. He’s still not completely healed although he  _ should be  _ but his healing factor still isn’t back to one hundred percent yet. 

 

It might never be. 

 

Dr. Cho had sat down with him and explained to him the nature of his injuries. May and Tony were in the room with him. May still clutched his arm and Tony hovered by the bed. 

 

“The skin on your hands and feet were completely removed,” Cho explained calmly as if that isn’t the most horrifying thing Peter’s ever heard, or experienced. “It will take a while to completely heal, and when it does it probably won’t be the same. There will be scarring and we’re unsure if they’ll retain the same abilities they had before. You’re an unprecedented case with your super healing, but since that is unpredictable right now, we can’t say for certain if any of your wounds will heal completely.” 

 

Peter heard what she said but he felt like he couldn’t comprehend. “Do you mean… do you mean I’ve lost my spider powers?” 

 

Dr. Cho was a personal doctor of Tony’s and he was told that she had treated the Avengers themselves, which is why he felt comfortable with her knowing about his powers. 

 

Cho pressed her lips tightly together. “No, your powers are at a cellular level, it would be impossible to completely get rid of them. We expect you’ll recover most of them, but not all. There’s a possibility you’ll never retain your ability to stick to walls.” 

 

Peter knew it. As much as Cho tried to sugar coat it, she still confirmed his worst fear. He wouldn’t be able to be Spider-Man anymore. 

 

“Hey,” Tony spoke up. “We’ll figure it out kid, okay? Don’t worry about that right now, just worry about getting better.” 

 

But how could he  _ not _ worry about it? That was the most important thing. He  _ needed  _ to keep being Spider-Man. Without Spider-Man, what good was he? 

 

That had been days ago. Now he’s healed enough that he’s able to sit up by himself. He still can’t walk yet, not with his feet still bandaged, but he can be moved to a wheelchair and brought around by May or Tony. 

 

He realized after a while that he’s actually at the compound. There’s a whole medical wing and a staff that’s on call at a moment’s notice. It’s part of their job to deal with superhumans, so they’re equipped to handle Peter’s healing abilities. They also promise complete privacy and anonymity which makes Peter feel safe. 

 

Ned comes to visit him. He was driven over by Happy in the coolest car he’s ever seen, he explains excitedly. He smiles and hugs Peter as best he can with his injuries in mind, but he’s still visibly upset. 

 

“I was so scared, man,” he says finally, his smile dropping. “I thought I was never gonna see you again.” 

 

Peter feels a pang of guilt. He promised so many people that he wouldn’t put himself in danger, and he lied. He let them all down. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

 

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Ned says. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

 

Peter feels like he can’t even promise him that. 

 

Tony finds several therapists for him. He comes in one day and drops pamphlets with information on them on his bed. 

 

“In case, y’know, you need to talk to someone,” he explains. “Who’s actually specialized to handle this.” 

 

Peter does want to talk about it. Kind of. He doesn’t think he’s ready yet, but he can feel the weight getting heavier and heavier in his chest and he knows his lungs will burst if he keeps it in too long. He wants to talk to Tony about it but he’s scared. At first Tony had seemed emotionally unavailable and Peter was afraid he was mad at him, but now he seems to make an effort to be there for Peter. 

 

“How ya feeling, kid?” he asks one time, sitting down in the chair usually reserved for May—she’s currently in her own room catching up on some sleep. “Ready to get out of here soon?” 

 

“I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin,” Peter admits. “I just want to start moving again.” 

 

“Well, PT starts soon,” Tony points out. “You may regret you said that.” 

 

Peter’s head falls back on his pillow. He doesn’t want to think about it. His body is still sore a week later and as much as he wants to move again, he dreads the physical therapy. He just wants to be okay again. 

 

But he’s not okay. He doesn’t talk about it, but he’s been struggling with nightmares and dark thoughts. Sometimes he feels fine, but sometimes he feel like he’s withdrawing inside his head. 

 

The memories of the pain haunt him, but mostly it’s the feeling of helplessness. He was completely at that man’s mercy. It’s a terrifying feeling, and one he can’t seem to shake. He keeps feeling trapped, the IVs sticking in his arms feel like bonds, and the wheelchair he’s limited to feels restrictive. He just wants to be up and walking again, to feel like he has agency over his movements. Right now he’s at the mercy of those around him to wheel him to where he wants to go. He can’t even go to the bathroom by himself, it’s humiliating. 

 

He learns that the man’s name was Trevor Ahern and he was a med lab scientist. Tony tells him. He tells Tony that he figured out his plan to go after mutated teens, and Tony tells him that he figured it out too. 

 

“You know, I’m impressed,” Tony says. “I gathered all this information because of you. You, by yourself, were able to crack a case that the police have been stumped over for almost a whole year. That man was caught because of you. Granted, your methods weren’t exactly ideal… but you saved a lot of kids, Pete. If it wasn’t for you, another kid would have died. Maybe more.” 

 

“But I got caught,” Peter says glumly. “You had to save me. You were the one that did everything.” 

 

“Wrong,” Tony says after imitating the sound of a buzzer. “You saved yourself. You left a trail, I just followed it. Basically everything I needed was available because  _ you  _ recorded it.” 

 

Peter lowers his eyes. He doesn’t feel like he deserves the praise. 

 

“Hey,” Tony says, softer. He places a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Everything doesn’t have to be okay immediately. You went through some shit. If you ever need to talk, I can try my best to listen… but I do think a therapist would help. I have one… you know, being kidnapped can do that to you.” 

 

Peter gives him an unamused look. “Mr. Stark, you were were kidnapped for three  _ months.  _ I was kidnapped for three  _ days.”  _

 

“And you went through just as much in those three days that I went through in three months.” 

 

Peter blinks. 

 

“Peter, for three days straight you were  _ hurt  _ and  _ humiliated  _ nonstop. That pain doesn’t just go away. It’s okay, you don’t have to be strong about this.” 

 

Peter feels tears well up in his eyes. 

 

“Will I ever be okay again?” he asks quietly. 

 

Tony looks like he doesn’t know what to say for a moment. “Yes,” he finally says. “There will be good days and bad days… but you’ll be okay.” 

 

“Will I ever be able to be Spider-Man again?” 

 

It takes longer for Tony to answer this time. “If that’s what you want, of course. Just give it time. I can’t predict what’s going to happen with your powers, but if you really want to do this, I’ll make it work. I mean… I’m Iron Man, and I don’t have any powers. Everything will work out, kid.” 

 

Peter feels his chin tremble. Before he can help himself, tears are streaming down his cheeks. 

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he says and leans over to hug the man. 

 

—

 

Almost three weeks later, Peter goes home. 

 

He’s been getting his homework from Ned, and since he’s had a lot of downtime, he’s been keeping up with it pretty well. He’s even been allowed to have take home tests and quizzes. The school administration has been blessedly understanding, and he hopes they keep it up because he’s still not willing to go back yet. 

 

Ned says that everyone at school knows that he was a victim of the Queens Killer, and that they caught him before he was killed. He’s practically a celebrity now. The compound has offered him and May privacy from news outlets for the past two months, but now he’s ready to go back to the apartment. He just wants to go back to normalcy. 

 

They finally take the bandages off his hands and feet, and it feels great to be able to have access to them again. He was tired of needing help with absolutely everything, because it turns out you can’t do much without hands or feet. 

 

The skin is still red and sensitive and he still needs May and Tony to hook under his arms and practically carry him to a wheelchair to be discharged, but with some physical therapy and a little more healing, the doctors say he should be back to walking soon. 

 

He can’t say the same about walking on walls, though. 

 

He tries not to think about it.  _ Doesn’t  _ want to think about it until he’s ready to try. 

 

Tony knocks on the door to his room as he’s packing to go back. 

 

“I just, uh, wanted you to know that you’re always welcome here,” he says awkwardly, his eyes flitting from Peter to the half-packed suitcase behind him. “So don’t be a stranger. If it gets too much, or you feel like you need more medical attention, please don’t hesitate. You don’t even need to call in advance.” 

 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiles half-heartedly. He tries to give him the full smile he deserves for being such a gracious host, but he doesn’t feel himself lately. 

 

Tony nods and pats him on the shoulder. He looks like he wants to say something else but he doesn’t, and twenty minutes later he and May are loading his stuff into the truck of Happy’s car and saying their goodbyes. 

 

Dr. Cho is reviewing Peter’s medical practices with May. He has pills and supplements he needs to take daily as well as routine exercises to get his strength back. He hopes he gets it back faster than estimated, he’s just waiting for his super healing to reach its peak again. 

 

They load Peter in from his wheelchair to the car seat and fold it into the trunk. He’s able to buckle himself, which he’s happy about because his hands don’t hurt too much to do that anymore. 

 

On the car ride back, May squeezes his hand. She can do that now too, but Peter can’t feel it as much as he used to. Everything on his palms feels kind of numb and muted, like he’s wearing gloves. He’s not sure if anything will feel normal again. 

 

Home feels different too. May had thankfully gotten rid of that stupid poster board with all the leads. He didn’t want to see it again and be reminded of his optimistic naivety over the case. 

 

He falls back into a normal routine as much as he can. He’s still not back in school, and May still has to help him with basic tasks that his hands are still too sensitive for. He takes pills and gets his stitches out. His wounds are slowly healing into nasty scars. He weans himself out of the wheelchair and into crutches. 

 

He still hasn’t tried to stick to walls again. 

 

He’s avoiding it, he knows. But his hands and feet, although healed, still look mangled. His stomach still stings with pain and he still feels weak. Even though he’s gaining back strength every day, he still feels weak. 

 

He doesn’t want to say anything to May, who views his recovery with complete optimism. She’s so excited over every little progression. He tries to match her enthusiasm, but he feels like he’s faking. He doesn’t actually feel like he’s recovering at all. 

 

He still has nightmares, sometimes. He’s back in that damn room, chained to a chair, Trevor standing in front of him. He never actually does anything, just stands there with some intimidating weapon in his hand and Peter screams and screams and screams but it only makes him smile more. Sometimes Peter wakes up still screaming and May runs into his room and hugs him until he stops crying. 

 

Ned comes over a lot now that Peter is doing better. He comes over with Legos and movies and they hang out like they did before. May cooks his favorite foods and always makes sure he’s comfortable. Everyone’s being so  _ nice _ to him. He’s alive, he made it, Trevor Ahern is dead.

 

But he still doesn’t feel okay. 

 

His words echo in his mind over and over again. How he wanted to make him weak, make him more human, and completely break him. Did he succeed? Peter hasn’t used his spider powers since he got back, and it’s been almost three months now. Did he win? 

 

After a while, May notices that he’s withdrawing. She sits down with him on his bed and cards her fingers through his hair. 

 

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks gently. “You’ve been so quiet lately. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

 

“I know,” Peter says automatically. 

 

“I don’t think you do.” 

 

Peter looks up at her. She looks tired. It surprises him, because she’s been so animated lately. Maybe she’s been faking it this whole time, too. 

 

“I know you try to be strong and hide things from me because you don’t think I can handle it, but I can. I’m strong too, you know.” 

 

“I know you are,” Peter says quickly, because of  _ course  _ he knows that. She’s one of the strongest people he knows, and he’s met the  _ Avengers.  _

 

May smiles. “I just hate to see you like this. I’ve been scared. I thought I lost you… that was the worst feeling in the world. And then I got you back, but you’ve been hurt so badly. It breaks my heart. I don’t expect you to be okay right away, but I want you to know that you’re not alone.” 

 

Peter nods. He feels his eyes watering and she pulls him into a hug. 

 

“I just feel so violated,” Peter mumbles into her shoulder. “Like he took the best part of me and destroyed it.” 

 

“Spider-Man wasn’t the best part of you,” May says. “That was  _ never  _ the best part of you. That’s always been Peter Parker.” 

 

He doesn’t respond, just cries into her shoulder. There’s still so much left to say, but he feels like he can’t talk about it right now. But it’s okay. May rubs his back soothingly and there doesn’t need to be any words. 

 

“I love you,” she whispers. 

 

“I love you too,” he says back. 

 

—

 

He’s off the crutches now. The bandages on his stomach are off too, leaving behind a jagged scar and nothing more. Physically, Peter is completely healed. Emotionally… he’s getting there. 

 

He took up Tony’s offer and started seeing a therapist. She’s nice and doesn’t make Peter feel awkward about talking about his feelings for a whole hour. She’s helped him get better at communicating to May how he feels. He has good days and he has bad days. It’s been four months now and it’s officially summer vacation, meaning he’ll start school up again for junior year. Hopefully after a whole summer goes by, he’ll be old news and kids won’t gawk at him in the halls. 

 

He still hasn’t tried sticking to things. 

 

Queens has been missing it’s Spider-Man for months and it doesn’t know what to make of it. Now that Peter is physically fit enough again, he keeps toying with the idea of putting his suit on again but whenever he considers it, his skin crawls and his heart beats faster, so he doesn’t. 

 

Mr. Stark stops by the apartment every once in a while to check up on him. He tries to act all nonchalant, but he always looks really concerned. 

 

“Have you thought about putting the suit back on?” he asks one time. 

 

Peter ducks his head. “No. No, I haven’t.” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because…” Peter falters. “Because I’m scared.” 

 

“That you won’t be able to do it?” 

 

Peter nods. “Yeah.” 

 

Tony looks pensive. “Do you not want to be Spider-Man anymore?” 

 

Peter gulps. It’s the big question he’s been avoiding since he got home. 

 

“Because if you don’t want you, that’s totally okay,” Tony continues. “There’s no shame in taking care of yourself.” 

 

Peter fidgets. “It’s not that I don’t  _ want  _ to. It’s just…” He looks down at his hands. 

 

“Just what?” 

 

Peter huffs. “I just… what if I  _ can’t?” _

 

Tony looks confused. “What do you mean? Of course you  _ can.”  _

 

Peter shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. What if I… what if my powers never come back?” 

 

“Well according to my reports, your super strength and healing are back.” 

 

“But what about my hands and feet?” Peter asks. “My sticky fingers? Y’know, the thing that made me  _ Spider _ -Man to begin with.” 

 

Tony shrugs. “Adhesive gloves. I already told you I’d—”

 

“No,” Peter interrupts because Tony doesn’t  _ get  _ it. “You can’t just fix this with money and technology, Mr. Stark. You can’t just fix… fix…  _ me. _ ” 

 

He says the last word so quietly he’s not sure if Mr. Stark hears. But his face softens and he scooches closer so he thinks he does. 

 

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was trying to fix you. After I’d been taken, I threw all my efforts into becoming Iron Man. Honestly, it’s probably smart of you to pull away from Spider-Man for a while.”

 

Peter doesn’t say anything. Truthfully, he’s not pulling away to be smart, he’s doing it because he’s scared. He doesn’t want Tony to know what a coward he truly is. 

 

“And there’s nothing about you that needs to be fixed,” Tony continues. “You’re not broken.” 

 

“Yes I am,” Peter admits, his voice cracking. “I’m not the same anymore. I can’t sleep, I have nightmares, I have ugly scars, I’m not Spider-Man anymore…” 

 

“Hey, different doesn’t mean broken,” Tony says gently. “I’m not the same as I was before Afghanistan either, but I would argue that I’m a  _ better  _ person now. It’s hard, I’m not going to lie. I still have nightmares too, and there are new issues that you have to deal with. You still  _ won,  _ though. You beat him. You lived.” 

 

“I feel like he got what he wanted,” Peter confesses. “He took away my powers.” 

 

“He didn’t, though,” Tony says. “Whether you stay Spider-Man or not, you still won by staying alive.” 

 

Peter nods. He still doesn’t really believe it, but it still feels good to hear that Tony believes in him. That he doesn’t think he’s weak. 

 

“Would you like to try now?” 

 

“Huh?” Peter looks up at Tony, who is looking at him expectantly. “Try what?” 

 

“Sticking to the wall,” Tony says, pointing to his bedroom wall. “Just for closure. I’ll be with you the whole time. No matter what happens, it’ll be okay.” 

 

Peter gulps. He nods, despite himself. He’s been avoiding it for months and he’s still not sure if he’s ready to know but Tony’s right, he needs closure. 

 

Slowly, shakily, he approaches the wall. He looks back at Tony once who gives him a nod of encouragement and looks back at the blank wall. Never has a bedroom wall looked so intimidating. Peter takes a deep breath. 

 

Tentatively, he raises his right hand. He tries to remember how it felt to cling to surfaces, the strength of the adhesive, the dependability. It never failed. He scaled skyscrapers with his hands. He could do this. 

 

He presses his palm to the wall. He closes his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. He pulls away. It doesn’t budge. 

 

He opens his eyes and stares at the hand still pressed to the wall. He gives it a few extra tugs to be sure. It sticks steadfastly. 

 

He doesn’t even realize tears are falling down his cheeks. He lets out an incredulous laugh. His left hand comes up to join the right and then he’s crawling, scaling, higher and higher until he’s in the corner of the ceiling, laughing and crying and looking towards Tony with a wide smile. 

 

Tony is still sitting on the bed with a smile of his own. His eyes are watery too. Peter did it. The man tried to take this away from him but he couldn’t. 

 

Spider-Man is still here.

 

—

 

A month later, Peter asks Tony what he’s been avoiding since he woke up in the hospital. 

 

“The man… Trevor… he said before that I wasn’t his first spider. Do you know who…?” 

 

He trails off. Tony looks at him like he’s been afraid of getting asked that question for a long time. He nods and looks at the floor. 

 

“I think you already know who.” 

 

Peter swallows. “Cindy.” 

 

Tony doesn’t even need to respond. He knows. He’s had a feeling since he found out how Trevor targeted people. 

 

Cindy Moon, Peter’s Decathlon teammate, who was also on the field trip to Oscorp. 

 

He has Tony take him to visit her grave. His heart aches when he sees her name on the tombstone and the flowers, photographs, and trinkets that surround it. She was very loved. 

 

This could have easily been him, he knows. If he had been kidnapped before her, he would have been dead. He thinks of her enduring the same torture as him and no one coming to save her and he has to swallow down bile. 

 

He feels guilty most days that he’s alive and six other kids are not. Survivor’s guilt, his therapist tells him. Visiting Cindy’s grave, the guilt swells, but Tony is there and he puts a hand on his shoulder and it grounds him. 

 

Slowly, and after a confirming nod from Tony, he places a potted plant down at her grave.  _ Chlorophytum comosum _ —the Spider plant. He thought it was fitting. Subtle, but a reminder to him of what they shared. It’s resilient, a hard plant to kill. It’s something that Peter can keep alive, feel like he’s contributing something to remember her by. It’s something that he can come back to every once in a while to water and care for and think about Cindy. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, touching her grave. A tear spills down his cheek. Tony squeezes his shoulder. 

 

After a few minutes he stands. He feels brand new, like he’s shedded his skin and he’s starting fresh. He closes his eyes and breathes in the brisk Queens air and exhales his demons. For the first time since the incident, he actually believes that he’ll okay. 

 

“Ready to go?” Tony asks. 

 

Peter opens his eyes. He looks at Cindy’s grave one more time and his Spider plant sitting next to it, one of many reminders that people are visiting her, that she’s not forgotten. 

 

“Yeah,” he replies. “Let’s go.” 

 

—

 

Half a year later, Spider-Man is swinging around New York like he never left. He laughs, feeling the wind whip around him and the thrilling sensation of falling only to get yanked back up by another one of his webs. He weaves through skyscrapers, relishing in the feeling that he missed so much. He feels like he’s home again.

 

Mr. Stark was right. He’s different, but not broken. He still has nightmares, still sees a therapist about his PTSD. Some days are bad, but some days are  _ really  _ good, and he chases that feeling. 

 

Peter’s a survivor. Trevor took him, hurt him, and tried his very best to kill him. But Peter wouldn’t let that stop him. He still has a life to live, friends and family to love, a city to protect, and a world to save. He perseveres through the pain and the guilt. 

  
Trevor is gone, but despite his very best efforts, Peter is still  _ here.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love angst but you know I gotta end on a positive note. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Recommended listening.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfIuJpdTDCU)
> 
>  
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment. I realize that this story is really heavy and may have scared a lot of people away from reading, but feedback is good for my soul.
> 
> *Also, I forgot to mention that I'm on tumblr as emkayohh if anyone wants to talk to me about Iron Dad there!


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